Orphic Verboten
by Amber Penglass
Summary: When Atton is hired to smuggle our favorite Exile off Peragus, he gets more than he bargained for in a short Jedi who doesn't like the idea of staying captive...imagine that. Romance, hutts, dancers, Sith... You know, just general chaos.
1. Prologue

_**Orphic Verboten**_

_Amber Penglass_

**Prologue**

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* * *

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**Location: Unknown**

"A mining asteroid, you say?"

"Statement: Yes, that is where I am currently located and awaiting further orders to facilitate the removal of my quarry."

"Patience, HK-50, patience," the thin man leaned back in his chair, peering at the hologram that floated before him while emitting an eerie blue glow into the dark room.

"Irritated declaration: Patience is already one of my primary routine functions, master."

"Of course it is," the man placated. "But back to the matter at hand, please. You said you have located a few who would be willing to…assist the Exile on her way off the facility?"

"Explanation: The miner Coorta is most interested in the insurmountable bounty you have placed on the Jedi, master, and is very willing to facilitate communications regarding her removal in exchange for that bounty."

"I see. This is quite convenient." He paused a moment, thinking. "This turn of events does not require, I think, any major alteration to my plans. I am sending you some intel, HK-50. You are to steer this Coorta fellow to the smuggler Atton Rand. Contact me when you have word that Coorta has contacted him."

"Statement: Understood, master."

The blue image flickered, then vanished all together.

Goto leaned back into his deep black chair once more, steepleing his fingers as a rare hint of a smile coaxed the corners of his thin mouth upwards. He let himself savor the way his future seemed to flow out before him, falling neatly into place, just as things always did for him.

But no, he was getting ahead of himself, and he still had a bit more work to do tonight…

* * *

**Location: Nar Shaddaaa Refugee Commons**

It was dark, inside the cargo compartment that served as a shabby single-room abode. The only light came from a small lamp at the head of what passed for a bed. Little more than a pallet, it was old, worn, and the current resting place of a man who slept shirtless, his bare arms and legs flung about himself haphazardly, locks of dark brown hair flopping down over his brow, a brow that was scrunched with the dreams of the guilt-plagued…

There was a sudden, insistent pounding on the cargo compartment's 'door,' and Atton Rand was just as suddenly fully awake. He grabbed a small sonic blaster from its place beneath his pillow and stuck it into the back of his waistband, then snatched a limp linen vest, shrugging it on as he approached the ceiling-to-floor flaps that served as doors. He ran a hand through his bed-hair once before shoving open one of those flaps.

"Adana?" he asked blearily, blinking the sleep from his eyes. The pretentious little blonde girl gazed up at him, arms crossed over her young chest.

"There's some Exchange people looking for you," she told him, all traces of the fear he knew was there well hidden. For an eleven year old. Adana had grown up faster than most… It pained him, sometimes, to see the cheeky kid manhandled into adulthood. But most of the time he was just satisfied that she'd taken to 'adulthood' so well. Girl knew the score, and knew how to keep that score on her side enough to stay alive.

"What do they want?" he asked, giving the flap a nudge to let her in. He moved to where his shirts lay flung over the single plasteel container, slipping off the vest he'd just put on and replaced it with his shirts, layered three thick, topped with his all-time favorite ribbed drexl leather, sleeveless jacket.

"Dunno," the blonde said, shrugging. The –brief- sight of a half-naked man was nothing new to her, and for all the other refugees warned her and the others away from him –on the word of a few twi'leks, and no more- she'd never once not trusted him. It was humbling for Atton, in a way. Even a kid could see how completely castrated he'd been lately…

He shook it off, pulling on his fingerless gloves. "How many?" He asked. The Exchange coming around for him was nothing new; they'd been after him to join them for a while now. Atton wasn't interested.

"Just a few. Something about a message, I think," she frowned, pondering, then shrugged. Atton clipped his jack-of-all-kinds-of-shit belt around his waist, stuck his sonic blaster and his holdout blaster into their holsters, then laid a heavy hand to ruffling Adana's short hair on his way out.

"Stay here, or get back to your mom," he told her. "Steer clear til I get back."

"I can take care of myself!" She huffed, but Atton's only response was to fling up a hand in farewell as he sauntered through the thin crowd that was the refugee commons.

It was just as Adana had told him. Four Exchange thugs stood waiting by the entrance to the ramp that would take a journeyer up and out of the commons and into the Refugee Sector. They spotted him after he saw them. Some of them tensed, while others remained cocky when they saw he was alone.

"Hear you boys have a message for me," Atton called when he was within hearing distance. "Damn, I knew that twi'lek dancer from the pazaak den was into me, but to send all of you boys? Phew, she must have had a better time than I thought, and that's saying something." His grin remained bright and flippant, even when the two humans and two rodians deepened their glowers.

/Pale one thinks he's amusing/ one of the Rodians hissed in his own choking language. Atton knew enough of the more common non-basic languages to grasp the gist of what most species said around him. And what he couldn't figure out, his hand-dandy translator could.

"Just come quietly, filth, and we won't get violent with your friends," one of the two humans growled. Atton glanced over his shoulder, eyebrow raised, to spy a handful of refugees gathered around him. More to hear what was going on than to back him up. But the Exchange guy didn't know that…

Sticking his hands in his pockets and flashing a confident grin he said, "All right, take me to your leader."

* * *

**Location: Nar Shaddaa Exchange Headquarters**

"Lord Saquesh, we've brought him."

Atton resisted the urge to recoil at the whiff of pure Quarren that assaulted his nostrils. He'd heard that this stench was actually pleasant to squid-heads, but he'd never believe it. He took note of the two…whatever-they-weres stationed on either end of the large room. Bodyguards, most likely. Saquesh turned from whatever it was he was doing at a state-of-the-art computer console.

/Ah, I thought I smelled something…/ the over-dressed alien gurgled.

Atton bit back a retort involving a question of if Quarrens even knew what a fresher was. So far, no one had said anything about him joining the Exchange, and he was beginning to wonder if the message excuse hadn't been an excuse at all. But who would contact him through the Exchange?

"Someone said you had a message for me?" Atton settled for the straight to the point approach. He had plenty of wit for later.

/Yes, yes. My boss, Goto, has a job for you/ If possible, some emotion made its way through the hiccupping that was Quarrenese; indignation.

Goto. Briefly, Atton went over what he knew of the mysterious crime boss. Head of the entire Exchange in the local Y'toub system. Elusive, impossible to find unless he wanted _you_.

/Follow me; we don't want to keep him waiting./ Saquesh turned, his long robes trailing after him. Giving a brief glance to the terse guards around him, Atton grit his teeth and followed the Quarren. Out of the operations room, past the tables anchored from the ceiling in what passed for the antechamber, into the wide hall and into another room. All the while they were flanked by two Gamorreans, big, hulking, snorting beasts with dripping snouts. Atton had never liked them, and he liked them even less now that they were eyeing him with beady, empty eyes that were just waiting for him to make a wrong move…

/Here we are./ Saquesh stood aside to let Atton into the small room. Atton peeked inside before cautiously passing over the threshold, his hands itching for his blasters. He spied a table, a chair, a few plasteel containers –probably empty- and little else. He half-turned to ask what he was supposed to do, but the door had already slid shut. Tensing, Atton waited to hear the shift of a lock. When he didn't hear it, he let himself relax a bit and turned back to the room.

Ah, he'd missed something. There was a holo emitter on the table, and it was beeping now. Atton went and sat at the table, eyeing the thing the whole while. With one cautious, capable hand he reached out and flicked the thing on. Instantly the stately form of a short, thin, well-dressed man appeared in flickering blue 3-D form.

"Greetings, young Atton. I don't expect you to recognize me, but I do expect you to know who I am. I am Goto, and as you no doubt have already been informed, I have a job for you."

"What makes you think I'm interested in anything you have for me, job or otherwise?" Atton leaned back in the chair, crossed his arms and exuded an air of sheer lazy confidence. It was a look he'd perfected over the years. The hologram before him smiled with equal lazy confidence, and it made Atton suddenly aware that he was very, very within the reaches of people who answered to this man.

"I know you'll be interested, because I know that for all you view your residence in the Refugee Sector a part of some self-inflicted punishment you are quite ready to be out on your own again." Goto's stance shifted, just a bit. Atton prided himself on reading body language, but he couldn't think of anything that the small alteration in posture could mean. "It is a simple task, but it requires the skills of someone with your…background to be sufficiently successful. Am I making myself clear?"

"Try being a little crystalline, just in case," Atton challenged out of hand. He squared his jaw; he knew very good and well what Goto was referring to when he'd mentioned his 'background.' It wasn't much a secret, really. It wasn't confirmed, but it wasn't secret either.

"Very well, I shall indulge you." Another ever so slight shift in pose, as equally indefinable as the last. "There is an exiled Jedi by the name of Aelyn Drae whose services I wish to procure. I am quite certain, however, that she will not hear me out willingly. Therefore I have arranged for her to be…detained until someone –someone like yourself- can persuade her to grant me an audience."

"You want me to kidnap a Jedi." Goto had been right; it was bullseye up Atton's old alley. An alley he had no wish to revisit.

"No, no, that has already been dealt with. Now, I simply need an…escort. Jedi are quite valuable nowadays, as you well know. It would be most unfortunate for myself and others if after all the trouble I've gone to in order to find her were wasted if she were to, say, face an untimely demise."

Atton paused, mulling over the package of info and offers that had just been dropped into his lap. So he wouldn't be kidnapping anyone. He'd just be making sure she got back to this Goto –who apparently only wanted to talk to her- unharmed. Could he handle that? It wouldn't break any of the promises he'd made to himself after…

Mentally, he shook himself.

But he would have to fight the chit, no doubt. He'd never met a Jedi who would willing stay captured. And he'd met plenty of captured Jedi…

"She won't be harmed." It wasn't so much of a question as it was a confirmation.

"Dear boy, why ever would I want to harm a single, lone, broken Jedi? There are some who have grudges against their religion, it is true, enough for them to go to extramountaneous lengths to procure a single of their order for their own vengeful pleasure, but I assure you I am not so petty as that."

"Good to hear it," Atton responded absently, still mulling it all over. His gaze strayed for a bit, then snapped back to the hologram. "What's in it for me?"

"Ah, ever the Sith, I see. Old habits die hard, do they not?" At Atton's sudden stiffness and rising up from his seat, Goto continued with a humorless chuckle. "A ship. The ship you would use to escape the place the Jedi currently resides would be yours, legally. It originally belonged to the Exchange, in any case. The ship, plus a notable amount of universal credits, and of course my eternal gratitude would be yours. And in this system, boy, that is worth far more than any number of credits or any ship. After the Jedi is safely conveyed to my personal yacht, you will be free to go wherever your pilot's heart desires."

A war waged within Atton. He'd sworn he'd never, ever willing even look at another Jedi again.

But…a ship…enough creds to start over…maybe enough to do something worthwhile… Atton had never stopped believing that there had to have been a reason that woman had saved him at such a high price. He supposed it was time he stopped wallowing in greedy guilt and got off his ass –and this moon- and started trying to figure out what it was she'd saved him for. And to do that, he'd need money. To get money, he needed Goto.

He raises his eyes from where they'd lowered to stare at the grey tabletop, and stared straight into where the hologram's eyes would be.

"All right," he said slowly. "Give me the details. I'm in- for now."

"Now, now, I don't accept half-heartedness. From any of my employees."

"Fine," Atton replied tersely. "I'm in. Period. Happy?"

"Immensely," was the fleeting reply. "Now, within the next few days you will receive a message from one 'Coorta.' He is a miner aboard the Peragus II mining facility who will wish to talk to you about smuggling the Jedi off Peragus to sell to me. He will not know we have already spoken. You are to accept the job with appropriate questioning and deliberation. Then you will return here, and my dear Saquesh will have you escorted to the docks where you will be given passage on a freighter to Citadel Station on Telos. From there you will stow away aboard a re-supply ship bound for the mining colony on Peragus II."

"Then I meet this Coorta guy, get the Jedi, hijack that ship, and high tail it back to you," Atton filled in the rest in summarized form. It made him sound like a bounty hunter.

"Precisely," Goto confirmed smoothly. If he was pleased that Atton had caught on, he didn't show it. "When you meet Saquesh, he will give you the amount owed to Coorta. I trust all of it will make it to his hands…"

Atton didn't dignify the veiled accusation with a reply. "Speaking of credits," he said instead. "What kind of numbers were you talking about, for me?"

Goto named a number.

Atton nearly kicked himself. He veiled his surprise, but Goto saw the shift in his posture nonetheless, and smiled dryly.

"Any other questions?"

Atton had none. Goto bid him farewell, reminded him of how many ears he had and how they were all over, then the hologram vanished with a crackling snap. Behind and to the left of him, Atton heard the door open. Glancing over, he saw the two Gamorreans ready to 'escort' him out.

Saquesh didn't meet him on his way out, which was fine with Atton. He could go forever without smelling that rancid rotting seaweed stench.

Adana was waiting for him when he got back to his own rancid rotting abode. He didn't see her until he'd flicked on his lamp and shrugged his shoulders out of his ribbed vest. He nearly clobbered the girl with that vest when he'd tossed it towards his pallet. It missed her, but barely, and the thud of leather against the durasteel wall was enough to wake the sleeping blonde. Sitting up and rubbing her eyes, she yawned before peering at Atton through the dim light.

"He offered you a job, didn't he?" The shrewd child commented. Atton stared at her for a moment, then shook his head.

"Yeah," he admitted.

"It's going to take you away from here, isn't it?"

Atton paused. Then, "Yeah, for a while. Why, getting attached to me?" He looked over his shoulder to toss the girl a teasing smile, only to find her standing up, eyes glistening slightly as she moved towards him and wrapped her small arms around his waist.

"I'm gonna miss you," she sniffled uncharacteristically.

"Hey, hey…" he patted her on the head before sighing and wrapping his arms around her, too. "I'll be back," he told her. "And I'm not leaving for a while, anyways."

"Doesn't matter," Adana sighed, pulling away, scuffing her falling-apart-shoe-toe against the dirty floor.

"Sure it does." He knelt down on one knee, and slid one hooked finger beneath her childish chin, tilting her newly wet face up to look at him. "I'll do the job, and I'll come back to check up on ya. I promise. See?" He held up his hand, vertical. Adana clasped it, and he shook it, scoundrel-like. She smiled a bit, as if amused. He ruffled her hair as he stood back up.

"Bet you're mom's worried," he told her. "So get. I'll see you later."

Adana left with a brief farewell, leaving Atton to sigh into the dark.

* * *

**Location: Nar Shaddaa, Refugee Commons**

As Goto promised, Atton got his second communication within the next few days. One of the paid runnerboys that frequented the Refugee Sector delivered a cheap datapad one late evening. It was obviously the boy's last run of the night, and he was equally obviously itching to get back to whatever or wherever he called home. Atton scrounged up the creds to pay him to wait a bit, then sat down to read what the miner Coorta had to say.

It was exactly as Goto had said it would be. Coorta was brief, explaining that he had a Jedi in his possession but no way to get her to the Exchange that had posted such a delectable bounty. He'd been referred to Atton, told he had experience in dealing and subduing Jedi, and was offering to share the bounty with him in exchange for the simple service of conveying the Jedi to the Exchange. He outlined the plan for distracting his coworkers so Atton could get the Jedi off Peragus, then named the percentage he was willing to throw Atton's way.

Atton's response was equally brief, stating he accepted, approximately when to expect him, and little else. He handed it to the boy who ran off quickly enough, then locked the door flaps behind him, and settled down into his pallet.

He'd visit Saquesh in the morning.

**Location: Peragus II Mining Facility**

"Yeah? Whada _you_ want?" Coorta demanded of the life-sized hologram of one of the newer workers on Peragus, the one that had just popped up in the middle of the bunk room he shared with three other numbskulls.

"I wish to inform you that I am aware that you have contacted the smuggler Atton Rand, and that I also know you just received confirmation of his acceptance."

"So? What's it to you? You want a referral cut, or something?" He sneered. "Fine, I'm a decent enough guy, I'll throw something your way."

"To correct you, I do not desire currency." The newcomer's face remained suspiciously, emotionlessly blank. "I merely desire to once again open communications with you, and make you aware that you will need my assistance to get the Jedi off this facility."

"I'm listening…"

The miner droned on, detailing how he would sabotage the facility-wide sensors that detected lethal gas in populated areas so that it would give an alert for the administration level, the level that held the medical facility. Coorta grudgingly admitted it was a good idea, and as he was just a mining foreman, not a tech, he would need this stranger's computer expertise if he were to do this. To be honest, he hadn't really thought about getting the Jedi to the Exchange past finding a smuggler…now that he'd found one, he had the issue of getting the Jedi to the _smuggler_.

"All right," he said after a painstaking moment. Coorta was not one to admit he needed anyone else. Ever. "The smuggler's supposed to be here next week. Contact me when you're ready to go ahead, and I'll give you the signal when he gets here. Apparently the guy's gotta go all the way to Citadel Station first, then he's supposed to comm me and let me know which supply freighter he'll be on. Then when that ship docks, you set off the alarms."

"Affirmative. I will inform you when my preparations are complete. I look forward to working with you." Then he was gone, and Coorta was left with the unsettling feeling that there was more to what was going on than he knew…

Five days later –sooner than expected- Coorta got a summoning wave from one of his superiors when following his team up and out of the suffocating mining tunnels.

"Yeah, boss?" he asked, pulling off his smoky goggles.

"Call for you. Take it in my office, if you want. I know how damn tough it is to hear anything in that excuse for a commons." He left it at that, and moved to follow the rest of the crowd to the call of food.

Coorta was immediately suspicious. In the boss's office? It wasn't unheard of, but it was rare, and no one liked Coorta; the boss was no exception. But what could he do? If he refused the call, he couldn't count on this Atton Rand calling back- may assume Coorta had backed out. Preparing himself to be on guard for spies and recording devices that could get him caught –and keeping in mind that he should try and keep all suspicious terms out of the conversation- he headed for the aforementioned office.

He shut and locked the security door behind him, and went to the desk. Not bothering to sit, he accessed the beeping console. There was no hologram, but the unmistakable voice of someone who'd seen too much and tried to feel too little met Coorta's ears.

"Thought you'd never answer," the voice groused.

"Rand?" Coorta ventured.

"One and only," was the reply.

Before he could say anything that would overtly jeopardize Coorta's immediate freedom he said, "So, old friend, when are you planning on stopping by? Got some boys –and girls- here eager to meet you." He tried to sound jovial, but too _jovial_. If anyone was listening, overt casualness might be just as damning as if he came right out and said 'I'm violating the security officer's biggest rule right here, that's right! Right here!'

Atton Rand said nothing for a moment, then, "Looks like it might be a little later than expected, sorry. I tried to bribe," his voice took on a joking manner, here. "the pilot of one of those rickety old supply freighters that come around to you guys every month, but no go. He said the only room for me would be in the fuel tanks. And, well, you know, since I'm fond of breathing…"

Coorta faked a laugh, translating the 'code speech' to mean that Atton would arrive on the next freighter, and would make his way on to the station by way of the fuel lines. Clever. Dangerous, but clever. "Yeah, yeah, that's too bad," he said, distractedly. He'd have to make sure he was standing around the fuel controls so he could open the right hatches at the right time…he'd have to watch the cameras.

"So, you haven't changed your mind about coming? You know, what with all these accidents that go on, sending us scurrying to the closest shelter til the alarms let us know we can come out... Last time, I had to hide in the medical wing." Which, thankfully, was actually true. Fate, Coorta thought, must be on his side.

"Na, I'll be fine. You know I got over my phobia of loud noises long time ago." Static, and Rand's voice began fading. "Anyways, gotta go."

"All right then, I'll see you soon." Then Atton Rand was gone, and Coorta was left satisfied that _had a_nyone been evesdropping, no one would be the wiser. He left the office and headed for the mess hall. He had about another day to relax before the next re-supply freighter was due…

* * *

**Location: Re-Supply Ship '_Calor._'**

_'If I never catch another whiff of any kind of fuel ever again, it'll be way, way too soon,'_ Atton thought. Even through the state of the art rebreather mask he'd swindled out of a bothan trader on Nar Shaddaa before leaving on this wild pick-up, he could smell oh so strongly the acidic vapor of Peregian fuel. The leather clothing he wore was more bulky and heavy than he was used to, and thus for him wasseveral shades of awkward, but it kept the fumes from gnawing at his skin. Still, he couldn't help but wonder if the smell of fuel would ever completely be scrubbed off… He wondered if, once he managed to sneak onto Peragus, he would manage to steal enough time to find a fresher before picking up the Jedi on his way out…

Wishful thinking, and he knew it. So he sighed, hunkered down with what he hoped was only a mildly unmanly pout of disgruntled discomfort, and waited _another _five hours amid the pipes and wires high above the massive ship's fuel tanks.

When he finally heard the heavy whirl and clang of the engines lowering in output, then the grating screech of them coming to an altogether halt, he knew it was time. With a faint sigh of relief that he was at last getting to move, Atton dropped down from the scaffolding and landed heavily atop one of the tanks. He set to manhandling the hatch atop the tank open, then hauling it out of his way. He managed to squeeze the bulk of the environmental suit through the small opening, after which he splashed down in the foot-deep remnants of what had been a full tank when they'd started out.

He heard, faintly, the sound of the refueling pipes hooking up to Peragus. He'd have to move quick. He had about five minutes while they checked and double checked the systems and connections before the pipe that was his escape into the facility and the tank he was currently huddling in was flooded with harsh, minimally refined fuel. So he hurried, diving into the pipe and scurrying along it like a corellian silk worm. It seemed like he was crawling through a tunnel of eternity, rather than a tunnel of rusted bolts and partially corroded couplings. Atton was, at times, very, very aware that the only thing protecting him from pure vacuum was the thin sheets of curved metal around him and his far-too-fragile-for-his-peace-of-mind clothing.

But at last eternity came to an end, and Atton spied the round splash of discoloration from the rest of his dark world that was where the refueling line connected with Peragus's interior fuel pipes. He crawled faster. Emerging from the constricting tunnel,Atton set off at a run.Speed was what mattered now. Hesoon came to where the fuel line connected with yet another set of pipes; the ventilation system. He unhooked the hatch, shoved the suit ahead of him, and hauled himself up into yet another small, round space.

Seemed he made it all in good time, too; no sooner had he hauled the hatch behind him shut than he heard the unmistakable sound of rushing liquid, not too far off and coming quickly closer. Smiling smugly over a job -so far- well done, Atton continued on down the vents, using his mental, memorized layout of the facility to guide him. His memorization skills hadn't failed him or his scoundrel's ways in all his few decades, and he prayed that they wouldn't fail lack of disuse.

When Atton came to the hatch that was supposed to let him up into the medical wing, where he would wait until he heard some sort of alarm, he found himself keeping more quiet than he remembered willingly being in a number of years. Above him, he heard footsteps, and a womans voice making a log recording. He tried to listen, but he only caught a few muffled words, Coorta's name among them.He wondered if she was in on the plan... Meanwhile, he was hoping he'd translated Coorta's attempt at subtle 'code speech' correctly; _'...alarms let us know we can come out... Last time, I had to hide in the medical wing.'_ One thing he worried about was how would Coorta know when he, Atton, was ready and in place? How long a wait did he have?

Not long, apparently- Coorta must have been watching some hidden interior cameras, either that or he had good timing; klaxons of some kind began blaring their message, whatever it was. Atton was no miner.

He waited a few minutes, waiting until he heard the woman start yelling for evacuation, her log recording cut off short. When the clatter of panicing, running feet had faded, Atton let himself push the panel above him up, slowly, cautiously, alertly looking around as he slipped up and out of the vents, replacing the thing silently as he could. No one was around, supposedly, but old habits died hard. With relief he tore off his rebreather mask and took a deep, long breath of air that at least wasn't his own recycled oxygen. He hooked the mask to his belt, then took a good long look around the room. There was some plasteel containers here and there,a lab station across the room from him, a security door to the right of that, and a large window on the same wall as the door that was to his left. In front of the window was a security console, and he went to that first. He bypassed a few security measures, unlocked the secured door behind him; might be some useful stuff in there, andonce a scoundrel, always a scoundrel.

Next he hacked into the camera network. The morgue was first on the slideshow of camera feeds; only two bodies, an old woman and a man burnt beyond recognition. In the kolto room, all the tanks were full and lit from below with a deadly red. All but one; Atton smiled. He'd found his Jedi. And damn, he'd forgotten how good some of them looked in their underwear... Jedi tended to be rather good looking by merit of their excellent physical condition, if nothing else. Next came the hallways, clear save for a few disoriented mining droids, and...

Atton saw him just before he and his small group of followers, no doubt all promised a portion of the bounty money, barrelled their way through the main door just outside the control room Atton currently occupied. Coorta made quick work of the door to the control room, and met a casually grinning Atton with a fierce scowl.

"What are you smiling for? You haven't even gotten the Jedi out of the kolto tank, yet!"

"Right. And if you guys had been security instead of...well, not, then it'd be a damn good thing I hadn't, wouldn't it?" Atton retorted. He logged out of the security console, then looked at Coorta and the men following him. There were three of them, and for weapons they carried simple mining lasers. Only one of them had a small, probably smuggled blaster with what looked like barely half a charge.

"Look, kid, you're just the ferrier, kay? Just do what I say, and we'll all get out of this rich men." He turned and marched out of the room, turning ot the right towards the kolto room. Atton suppressed a sigh, wondering again why he'd agreed to do this, and followed. He found Coorta struggling with the security lock. Of course the kolto room would be locked down during a security or contamination issue. Atton didn't even work here and he knew that. Silently, he went back to the control room, hacked into the console again, and unlocked the kolto room door, as well as deactivated the remaining kolto tank holding a living patient. When he left the control room and followed Coorta's men into the kolto room, he watched with everyone else as the center tank began to drain, the floating Jedi lowering in sync with the lowering liquid-line. Eventually she lay limp and wet at the bottom, breathing deeply, obviously still asleep. Atton's hand went to the double-ended warblade hooked to his belt, waiting for to wake...this would be interesting...

But Coorta's humorless chuckle distracted him, and when he glanced at the sour grin on the man's face he answered, "I had some inside help, boy. What, you think I would trust that a slip of a kid could handle a Jedi? Na, I had someone slip some sedatives into the kolto."

Atton glanced at the dead men floating in the other tanks. "Shit," he scowled. "You killed the others?"

"Not me," Coorta groused. "Said he'd give her nuff sedatives that would keep her out for a few hours. Guess he put it in all the tanks, just to be sure..."

"Yeah, just to be sure..." Atton's grip on the warblade tightened, but not in preperation for battle. Even when he'd been Sith, he'd frowned on needless death. When it was needed, he didn't mind it one whit, but this...? Waste. He hated waste. But, there was nothing to be done and at least -for once- the blood wasn't on _his_ hands.

"This the same guy who pulled off the alarms?" Atton asked, rehooking his warblade and approaching the tank. Briefly, he noted that while shaded a dark, nearly black shade of...purple? He glanced at the drying roots of her hair, and noted that indeed a few whisps of merely damp purple-red hair was curling down on her forehead. Huh. A Jedi with folocule implants? Weren't they supposed to be all anti-vanity? He sincerely doubted that this particular shade was natural...

The front panel of the tank slid up and away, and the Jedi within slumped forward, breathing softly and evenly, into Coorta's waiting grip.

"Damn, she's all woman," Coorta mumbled, hoisting the unconscious captive higher into his grasp as he stood. Atton couldn't help but notice how he manuevered her in his hold so that the arm under her shoulderblades was placed just so, enabling his hand to cup the side of her breast while he was at it. His other hand was similarly located so he could do the same with her ass.

Earlier in Atton's life, he would have been amused, perhaps even made a joke.

Earlier.

He stood, kolto liquid running off the wet-resistence knees of his leather pants as he got up out of the puddle that had formed. Coorta didn't care that he was getting soaked while holding the soggy Jedi.

Without warning, the alarms changed in tune...

"Shit, we're running out of time, boy," Coorta said, suddenly thrusting the unaware package that was a human woman into Atton's unexpecting arms. He nearly dropped her, surprised at her weight- she was so short! Her head rolled against his shoulder, and he thought he'd heard her mumble for a moment before falling silent. With the blaring klaxons, it was hard to tell.

"How are you getting out, kid? Back to the re-supply freighter?"

"No, the ship that she came in on."

"That rusty thing? Good luck, Rand. She got fixed by accident, but supposedly she'll fly...supposedly.Where's my creds?" The sudden change ofsubject and tonehad Atton raising onesomewhat amused eyebrow.

"Hidden. I'll tell you where they are once I'm off this rock quarry reject." His tone, while ridiculously light and cheer, left no room for argument. Coorta grit his teeth audible, but said and did nothing otherslapping a communications receiver onto Atton'shis wrist.

"I'll moniter the cameras from here," he snarled. "I'lllet you know where to turn and how to avoid anyone who decides the 'almost clear' alarm is as good as the 'all clear' one. Now get!"

With a subtle glare, Atton went. He felt like giving a mocking salute, but with his arms full of Jedi it wasn't quite feasible. True to his word, Coorta occassionally barked out a direction to avoid miners out to test the air -miners who were probably puzzled by the utter lack of toxins that had never been there in the first place- but for the most part Atton followed his own mental blueprint to the hangar bay. Coorta told him which one hosted the ship he was to take, the_ Ebon Hawk._ Coorta was right- the thing looked barely fit to fly. But fly he hoped she would, regardless of her exterior beauty, or lack therof.

He had to lay the Jedi on the floor, once, to bypass a few lockdown security protocols -some of them looking rather odd and out of place, to him, but there was no time to ponder anything but getting off this rock. He opened the hangar bay door, scooped up the Jedi, and he was off again. He slung her over one shoulder, this time, to free one hand to work the boarding ramp controls on the underbelly of the ship.

"I'm here," he said into the wrist communicator as an afterthought. "And no offense, but I hope I never see you or this rock again. The credits are in the ventilation shaft below the floor in the control room."

A few more minutes, during which Atton boarded the Ebon Hawk and searched for either a dormitory or the med bay, then Coorta's voice came through distorted and staticy, "Got em.Now get lost."

"Gladly."Other than that, there were no farewells. Atton found the med bay adjacent to the corridor leading up to the cockpit. He dumped the Jedi onto the single bed he found there, and strapped her in using the belts attached to the underside of that bed. The cockpit was cramped and compact, but not to the point of detracting from it's funcionality, something Atton was supremely grateful for. The interior of the ship surprised him- she was no beaut,but she was practical and in surprisingly good shape, judging from what the exterior looked like...

All Atton's good opinion, though, went out the window the moment he discovered that the navicomputer was voice-locked. Scowling and cursing in two languages, he dug into the single destination not locked away from him; Citadel Station. Shit. He'd hoped he'd never have to return there... He hadn't exactly been a good boy during his stay, and he doubted his sudden disappearence would be investigated beyond cursory formalities. He'd have to tail-gate another ship, hack into their navicomputer by remote, and download someone else's charts. Either that, or brave actually landing, potentially handing over his new ship to the authorities who did _not_ like him...

Na, hacking sounded way better.

Atton powered up the engines, disabled the forcefield with a few well-placed turret bolts, and glided sweetly out into glorious freedom.

Then he spotted the Republic ship...

Giving a expletive-filled cry, Atton pressed the newly repaired engines to their limit, avoiding a sudden onslaught of red and green ship-sized blaster shots. Dodging and weaving the barrage, Atton grit his teeth and wondered if this was the last job he'd ever accept. He couldn't jump to hyperspace yet, not til he was clear of the asteroids... But it seemed like every single little blast that missed him found a fuel-laden rock, and blew to resemble a temporary, small sun. If the ship kept missing him, he was going to get fried one one of those asteroids. If it didn't miss him, then he'd_ resemble_ one of those blown asteroids.

Lovely odds.

He'd have to make a choice- run for it, try hyperspace now, or...or...

It'd probably get him killed.

Then again, doing nothing would probably get him killed. Crossing proverbial fingers, Atton set in the hyperspace coordinates, aimed for Telos, and punched it.

**To Be Continued...**

* * *

Allrightie, my first full-length KotorII fic. Those of you that read my other stuff, I know, I know...not another one... Don't worry, chapter ten of Vow of Serenity is on it's way. My muse decided to take a vacation...then mid-terms happened...yeah...

Anyways, hope you guys enjoyed. Feel free to launch any questions, complaints, comments, etc. I check my e-mail and reviews daily. Ta, everyone!

-_Amber Penglass_


	2. Chapter I

_**Orphic Verboten**_

_Amber Penglass_

**Chapter I**

* * *

**To:** **Luren,** Happy birthday, girl! If the last chapter was an unintentional present, think of this chap as an intentional (however late) one. There's a specific present in this chapter, actually… I ended up changing a character's name for ya. See if you can spot her…Enjoy!

**Thanks To:** Onasi26, Mellyna, LuvsDelkoSpeed, qt3.14159

* * *

"_Lyn!" The voice that called her name was one that, while unmistakably a child's, was poised and far more mature than the age the short girl's cherubic cheeks and meager stature would suggest._

_Aelyn glanced over her shoulder, her practice 'saber still held aloft and prepared to strike the final 'kill' stroke to her opponent. That glance cost her; Tavin, her sparring partner, lashed out and kicked her feet out from beneath her. With a squeal she fell back onto the mat, pouting as Tavin bounced on his heels and pressed his own practice blade to her throat._

"_Gotcha!" He cried, his twelve-year-old face smirking triumphantly. Aelyn growled and smacked the metal-and-plasteel mock-up of a real lightsaber aside._

"_Yeah, yeah," the younger ten-year-old Padawan growled, attempting to control her anger and indignation at being bested when Master Kavar tossed her a look from across the room. She composed herself, bowed a bit to Tavin, then turned at last to look for Luren's voice. The slender nine-year-old was standing in the entranceway to the learners' training room, her hands clasped elegantly behind her. Even in the bulkifying double shirts, inner robber, thick belt, boots and with her hair shorn to chin length –save the single Padawan braid that was flung back over one shoulder- there was no mistaking the child, even as curve-less and flat as she was, was female. Long lashes brushed against porcelain cheeks when she blinked, and the silky sheen of her hair reflected light like no fine fabric Aelyn had ever seen. Even in the simple clothes of a future Jedi, Luren looked like royalty._

_Aelyn would have been hard pressed to control her jealousy of the flawless student, if she weren't her best friend._

"_I need to talk to you," Luren's voice, so serious, so beyond her years, chilled the year-older Aelyn when she crossed the room to meet her._

"_What's wrong?" Aelyn asked instantly. Luren's only response was to glance nervously to where Master Kavar was correcting a Padawan's stance._

"_Come with me," Luren whispered, and turned to leave, her gait quick and urgent._

"_Wait!" Aelyn called. Despite the advantage she had on Luren in age, it was the younger girl who had the height advantage. She caught up, gripping her friend's elbow. "What's wrong? C'mon, tell me…"_

"_Not yet," Luren whispered the kind of whisper a child thinks no one else in the world can hear. "C'mon…"_

"_Luren," Aelyn whined, still following the raven-haired girl. "Luren…tell me…tell me, Luren…_

_Tell me…_

…_tell me…"_

* * *

"Tell me…" The two words wheezed out from between a pair of dry, cracked lips and an excruciatingly sore throat. For a moment, Aelyn was confused when Luren didn't again tell her to wait, to be quiet, not yet… 

Then she opened her eyes, and something she thought she'd left behind long ago clenched at her heart- grief. Then, it was followed by confusion. She hadn't dreamed about her old friends in years…why now?

She shoved aside the question in favor of another, far more pertinent one; where the hell was she? She ached like nothing she'd felt in a long time, and her senses were jumbled and disoriented. In fact, she felt like…

Like she was waking up from being under the influence of heavy sedatives.

"Crap," the burgundy-haired ex-Jedi swore, coughing as the word got caught in her dry throat. Yeah, definitely sedatives…and a nice hard, heavy dose, too. She calmed herself, focusing inward. She needed to get the drugs out of her system if she were to figure out what was going on. And to do that, she'd need to utilize some of her old skills, skills that were nearly useless without the Force, but they were still skills. She'd never be as effective as she'd once been, what with her connection to the Force severed, but she still possessed the nifty skill of getting her body to do what she wanted, more so than the average human. And right now, she wanted her body to finish metabolizing the remnants of unconscious-rendering drug pulsing through her bloodstream.

Part of the process of doing so required an in-depth sweep of her physical condition, which she did quickly enough. But something was off. Something not quite physical, which was why she supposed she was having trouble pin point it…there was something new…

It took her a moment to identify that new thing, it had been so long since she had felt even a smidgeon of it…anything at all… But there it was, like a sweet sound on the barest edges of her hearing…there, yet not quite…coming closer, hovering…

The Force.

The potency with which she suddenly named this ghostly sensation was enough to jolt her the rest of the way out of the remnants of her drug-induced haze. The first thing she realized, side by side with the Force –_how_ was it back?-, was that she was tied to a bed. A bunk, to be exact. She looked up, blinked. Blinked again, squinting at the sturdy mesh ropes that wound and tied tightly around a steel beam above her, her hands tied together in front of her in a series of complex looking knots. With a sigh, Aelyn raised her fists to her teeth, and began to gnaw at the ropes. She wondered if whoever had her knew of her ex-Jedi status… With a sickening lurch, she felt her inexplicably renewed ability to sense the Force –however minutely- make itself known again. All right, so perhaps not 'ex' anymore, though that was a matter of opinion. Some believed a lightsaber and Force sense to be paramount to calling oneself a Jedi. Others, though, believed it to be the mindset, the training, and the poise that matter. If that were the case, then Aelyn was definitely still 'ex' in her opinion.

The further into the rope she got –or tried to get- the more Aelyn realized that this was no ordinary set of ties. In fact, they were completely unlike any knots she'd ever encountered. They were quite new and quite original. And, it seemed, nearly Jedi –even ex-Jedi- proof.

But not Aelyn-proof. Eventually she abandoned all sense of skill and tact, and instead began to chew through the things, going for the more blunt and direct approach, as she'd tended to do for the past four years. She'd had a big, busy mouth growing up –literally and figuratively- allowing her to possess excellent jaw muscles now. It took an eternity, but Aelyn hadn't forced herself to learn the unnatural talent of patience for nothing. Her jaw sore to numbness, her neck screaming, her tongue swollen, Aelyn at last shook her wrists free of the last of the ropes. Her hands free, the knots on her feet went marginally quicker, and she spared herself a selfish moment to massage her aching neck and jaw while swinging her feet over the edge of the bunk.

At last free to get a more thorough look at her surroundings, Aelyn identified the room as a dormitory, the kind one would find on a low-class freighter or economy transport. She should know; she'd been on plenty the past few years. The room was complete with three bunks lining the left side of the room, hers having been the farthest in the corner. The bed farthest from her was rumpled, the bedclothes tossed aside haphazardly and the pillow still bearing the indent of its occupant. Approaching the bed, she let her hand hover in that indent- still warm, she realized with an inexplicable tingle running down her spine.

There was a footlocker across the room. She went to it, making quick work of the lock, which was also as unique as the rope knots, and found inside a pair of men's leather pants, a few shirts, a worn vest, a small sack of credits, what she identified as a noxious tube of hair gel when she'd made the mistake of opening it for a whiff, and a few dirty handkerchiefs.

Since she was in nothing but her skivvies –skivvies that she never remembered owning, nevermind having put on herself, to add insult to injury that some stranger had seen her naked- she pulled on the leather pants and one of the shirts. The pants fit more snugly than she would have liked. Whoever they belonged to was taller and narrower in the hips than she was. Probably a guy, she decided, examining the stitching at the crotch that altered from the way a woman's pants would have been sewn. The shirt was another matter entirely, and she had to fish around for a belt to ensure the thing wouldn't slip off entirely. As it was, one shoulder was left to the mercy of the chilly air, but couldn't be helped. Aelyn took the other belt she found- there wasn't anything else to be used as a weapon, and if push came to shove it would make a passable whip or choking tool.

Hoping the ship was as small as she'd guessed it to be by the sound of the engines and the style of the dormitory (the smaller the ship, the less people to deal with), Aelyn went to the hatch, pleased to find it unlocked. Whoever had put her under had obviously expected her to stay under for some time yet, if the slept-in bunk and the unlocked hatch were any indication. Either that or they were foolishly confident in their knot skills.

With eerie swiftness, Aelyn's old abilities of 'you don't see me' stealth came back to her as she slipped out of the dormitory and into the arched, dark corridor that curved sharply to the right. Peering around the curved corner and spying no one, she moved until she came to a cross corridor. To the right was what was obviously a boarding ramp, raised currently, and to the left was a darkened storage garage. She went to the ramp controls, but didn't touch anything. She would bet that whoever was in the cockpit or security room was watching all the systems. Any unauthorized access would alert them immediately to her wakeful state. Thankfully, the read-out already displayed on the screen told her all she needed to know; the ramp was voice-locked, not that its state being otherwise would have helped her any- beyond the ramp was pure space and vacuum.

So she swung left instead, into the garage. She spied a considerable amount of random storage items fastened to the far wall with netting and ropes. To her right, there was another corridor leading out of the garage, but wherever it led to was hidden from her by the abrupt curve of the passageway. On the wall between her and the other exit was a workbench, not that it was much use to her now…

She glanced suddenly to the junk fastened to the other wall, and with gratitude to whatever deity was watching out for her she went to it and began to rummage through the debris for anything weapon-like or breakdown-able to make one.

Her hopes eventually dashed when she found nothing even remotely useful, Aelyn suddenly started when she heard a noise behind her…

She whirled, falling into a low crouch and pulling her spare belt taught between her fists like the whip it most definitely wasn't. But her tentative outreach with her senses revealed nothing-

Aelyn swallowed sharply, suddenly frightened by how easily she'd used the Force, just now, without really even noticing… It was like a limb had been returned to her, she realized with a pang, one she'd forced herself to forget she'd ever lost. And now that it was back, weak as it was, she found herself using it automatically.

'_Not now,'_ she told herself, taking a deep breath and calming her roiling emotions. _'Not now…deal with this and the whys and hows later…'_

She resumed her stealthy trek, wondering why she'd seen no one else yet…so far, the ship seemed to be as small as she'd predicted, so a small crew was predicable, but not one so small for her to have seen _no_ one… Certainly not small enough for there to be no one in the security room, or console if there was no actual room…surely she should have been spotted by now by the various cameras she'd been avoiding…unless her old stealth skills had returned to her more fully than she'd thought. But somehow she doubted it… No, some poor spacer had fallen asleep at his post, most likely. It was the only explanation for why she'd heard no alerts, no alarms, no shouts… It was beginning to grate on her nerves, the utter silence of this ship.

She left the garage the way she'd come in, turning to the left again, keeping snugly to the right, curved wall of the passageway, coming almost immediately to what had to be the main hold. In the center of the crowded room that showed signs of recent repair was a round panel covered in consoles, about half a meter high. It was the kind used for holographic displays, normally of planets or of important transmissions. There was a curved three-seater couch facing away from her on the side of the room closer to her, and various boxes, panels, consoles and footlockers, as well as another passageway directly across from her on the other side of the room.

Wary of a casual crew member strolling down the opposite corridor with nothing between her and them, she glanced into the hold long enough to determine its empty state and slipped in behind the couch, a relatively well hidden position so long as no one came out of the passageway she'd just exited. She waited a minute longer, wondering what to do next. She'd hoped the ship was small, but not _this_ small. A ship this size wouldn't have the escape pods she'd been hoping for. Taking a pod or just releasing it while she found a place to hide until they set down, either plan was useless without a pod.

There was always going back to the dormitory –which she figured was starboard, judging by the layout and guessing where the cockpit was- pretending to still be tied up and then jumping on whoever slept in that one bed when they came back, using him/her as a hostage… But no, enough of Aelyn's Jedi life remained that such a tactic remained unpleasant to her set of morals, what remained of them. But the more Aelyn pondered her situation, the growing uneasiness of her exposed hiding place adding to the pressure, she was forced to admit to herself that it seemed the only way…

Well then, if she was going to do it, might as well take the more direct approach… She peeked out from behind the couch, and saw three other passageways besides the one she'd come in through, and one door to her right that she guessed was a storage compartment of some kind and also looked quite locked. Nevertheless, when she at last moved out from behind the couch she spared a dangerous few moments to try the door. It wouldn't budge, and she went for the passageway nearest it as a process of elimination, glancing down the corridors she would be exposed to when she moved as she did so…

But again, no one. While she'd begun to suspect something was off about this ship, now her suspicions were bordering on being flat out confirmed, even without any evidence beyond a suspicious lack of crew and activity. Aelyn had the sneaking suspicion she was aboard some sort of illegal craft, probably smuggler. It didn't look big enough to be slaver, not judging by the compartments she'd come across already, and it wasn't fancy enough to be one of those freighters that dealt in high-end slaves.

Going on down her selected passageway, she was gratified to see that it had begun to narrow- a sure sign the cockpit was ahead. Almost immediately to her right, Aelyn encountered another room, smaller than the hold and filled to the brim with beeping, flashing, active consoles and panels. A brief extension of the Force told her nothing living or mechanical inhabited the room, then she winced- she'd done it again, using the Force without meaning to… But was that really such a bad thing? Hadn't she suppressed genuinely pleasant nostalgia of the times when she'd wielded it daily…?

'_Not now,'_ she reminded herself again, firmly, and ducked into the room, instantly pleased to realize she'd stumbled across the security room. She slipped inside, looking for the door controls for a moment before realizing that there was no guarantee the gears were well oiled enough to guarantee her safety if she did manage to get it shut…

Instead she settled for swiftly crossing the small room to peer at the multitude of camera feeds flashing across the screen. Since now she knew no one would be monitoring the systems ship-wide, she let her fingers have their pick of the controls, flipping through the feeds through her abandoned dormitory, the garage she'd raided, the empty hold, the closet she'd been unable to unlock –was that a utility droid? Or an astromech droid? She couldn't tell- and then on to the Port dormitory, the cargo hold, the engine room, the medical room, the corridors…

No one.

The ship was completely deserted…

Several things happened at once. One, Aelyn made a sudden grab for a protruding beam out of the wall as she felt the unmistakable pull of a jump to lightspeed. Second, the same time she'd grabbed the beam she'd flipped to the final feed on the cycle, and swore colorfully as she saw too late the only other person aboard this damn ship leave the cockpit, heading… Another feed, and she swore again, turning to hide, to flee-

And came face to face with a wrist-mounted rocket launcher, one that shot three darts in rapid succession at the same time she lashed out with the belt, putting all the skill and intuition she could in the unfamiliar move, managing to land the heavy buckle of the belt directly to her assailant's temple even as she felt the three pinpricks dig into her neck, left breast, right shoulder… She fell, and he fell -right on top of her- the metal room around her swirling even as the dead weight of a man atop her groaned and fell to full unconsciousness only a split moment before she did.

* * *

A dream. 

It had all been a dream…

Well, part of it at least, Atton was sure, since he knew for a fact that he hadn't woken up half on top of a woman in a while. Had sex with plenty, but he hadn't actually let himself fallen asleep with any in order to wake up next to one, no matter how invitingly cushy the breasts might be…

Bracing himself to open his eyes to figure out just how much of the join-militia-become-Sith-murder-Jedi-meet-stupid-life-changing-Jedi-hide-out-on-Nar-Shaddaa-get-recruited-by-Goto story was a dream.

None of it, apparently. For a split moment, Atton Rand was thoroughly ambivalent about how little this bothered him before reality began to settle in for real, and he realized just who it was he was on top of. Groggy and instantly feeling a heavy throb in his left temple, Atton rolled off his still unconscious Jedi prisoner, swearing softly but colorfully the whole time, placing one hand to his pounding head…

Then the rest of his senses kicked, as did a lifetime of flying experience and about half a lifetime of pilot's, and with a stifled cry he scrambled to his feet, stumbling his way out of the security room and into the cockpit…

"Shit," the smuggler snarled, throwing himself into the pilots chair and yanking the ship out of hyperspace with a sudden whine of the engines; the red flash on the console had told him they'd long past missed their predestined deceleration point, for some reason. It wasn't uncommon- some object in the way, usual another ship or asteroid that if the computers hadn't sensed and proceeded on into lightspeed they would have crashed into. But that alert had been blaring for…

Atton cursed again; they'd been in hyperspace for the better part of four hours. Wincing as he realized just how hard the Jedi must have hit him, he made a mental note to check himself out as soon as he had the spare time to visit the medical bay, while in the meantime he set to calculating the damage done to their trajectory and overall journey… God help them if he was where he thought they were, which was the middle of nowhere…he'd certainly been aimed at nothing when he'd jumped. It had been a random jump to throw off the not-so-happy Citadel Station police that had chased him with unexpected determination him after he'd stolen an astro chart from another ship. He'd let himself take a nap –close to the Jedi just in case she woke early- only to be awakened by the blaring proximity alarms…

And now this…

Atton scowled, wishing he'd never taken this cursed bounty as he waited for the sensors to bring back the results to the read-out. At the same time he saw the very last thing he wanted to see displayed in ominous red Basic lettering across his read-out panel, a thick leather belt was suddenly looped around his neck from behind, choking him harshly.

'_Stupid,'_ he bashed himself, 'shoulda grabbed the belt while she was still under, or at least jabbed her with another dart…'

But there was little time for self berating at the moment, as Atton twisted with all the agility his lean frame allowed him, coming out of his chair and making a grab not for the belt around his throat but for the wrists and hands guiding that belt, twisting the joins he found until a feminine yelp rewarded his ears and he managed to disentangle himself from the offensive leather strap.

Both of them backed away, a feat in and of itself in the cramped cockpit. The Jedi –who he noticed for the first time was wearing a set of his spare clothes- fell into a wary, ready crouch, backing past the galaxy chart and into the passageway, effectively blocking his exit. That was fine- she'd lost her advantage, he knew, and read quite easily the evidence of fatigue in her movements, face, and her eyes- eyes that were veiled thickly with determination as well as an odd dash of curiosity. Curiosity that, he noted, probably wouldn't keep her from knocking him senseless if he gave her the chance…

Which he didn't. Atton leaped, quicker than she could anticipate given her too recent awakening from three of his darts, but she made a valiant attempt at twisting out reach of his lunge. She was more agile than he'd expected, he realized when he almost missed his grab at her; she was incredibly short and not exactly slight, with the majority of her weight falling to her ample hips and upper torso. Her hands were small, though, and made a surprisingly quick grab for his arm as he went past her, his own hands grabbing at her shoulders as they, together, whirled around in the passageway. Gritting his teeth, he slammed her into the wall across from the security room at the same time she managed to get his wrist launcher off his wrist and toss it clear away, out of sight in the security room behind him.

He stared down at her in surprise for a moment –he'd rigged the lock on that thing himself to prevent what she'd just done. How had she gotten it off so quickly? She stared right back up at him, breathing heavier than was healthy or normal. He wasn't surprised; he'd hit her with three darts where one would have been sufficient to take out a guy twice _his_ size, and he wasn't small. Even after four hours, he was considerably surprised she was awake enough to stand up straight and keep her eyes uncrossed, let alone make an attempt at fighting him…

But then she was suddenly doing more than making an attempt; she brought her forearms up between them and between his arms and shoved them outwards, breaking his hold on her. She dived to the side, ducking and rolling and come up onto bare feet to dart into the main hold, Atton right behind her. He leaped again, tackling her from behind. They fell, and with a sickening thud he heard her head collide with the edge of the large round holo-emitter platform in the center of the room. He rolled her over, sitting atop her and making a wild grab for one of her flailing arms- he missed her other arm, once again underestimating her ability to shrug off mind-numbing things, including the thud that would have knocked a normal man out cold.

But he kept forgetting- this was a Jedi.

How odd- Goto had hired him because he was supposed to be one who _wouldn't_ forget that, and here he was consistently overlooking that little detail. Great employee he was turning out to be. Not that he cared, mind…

Her free hand caught him suddenly in the side of his head, the side she'd clobbered earlier with his own belt buckle, knocking him free of her completely. She rolled out from beneath him even as he fell away, stunned. She got to her feet, backing away. Blinking as his stunned state came and went and he pulled himself to one knee, he saw that she was swaying dangerously. The remnants of the drugs he'd given her earlier, plus the residue of the darts, the fight, and at last the knock to the head was taking its toll.

And yet when Atton got to his feet, wiping away a trickle of warmth from beneath his left nostril, she'd grabbed a nearby pipe that had previously been hidden behind a footlocker, raising it before like the lightsaber it definitely was not. He snorted, spraying blood from his nose, and the Jedi scowled at him.

She was on her last leg, and she knew it. But she stood on that leg with determination and a stubbornness Atton found simultaneously commendable, amusing, and downright irritating.

"You gonna beat me up with that, huh?" he drawled, crossing his arms. The Jedi growled, and lunged- a pitiful attempt at one, anyways, clumsy and exhaustion-hindered, but there was plenty of drive and strength behind it and Atton found himself unexpectedly knocked back, the breath shoved from his lungs as he suddenly found himself neatly pinned beneath a pipe held horizontally across his throat, hands on either end of that pipe pressing down… Glazed eyes above him looked down at him with determination, but no murderous intent. So, knock him out from lack of oxygen, not kill him… He could use that…

He gave a perfectly legit fight, but then slowly –slightly slower than if he were doing this for real- he went lax, slowing his breathing to near nothing and letting his eyes fall slack, but remain open and apparently unseeing. A heartbeat later, the Jedi let up, and checked his pulse. He heard her sigh wearily above her, but it was a weariness born of something other than just physical fatigue and drugs. He found himself feeling curious for a moment, before dismissing it. He didn't care; wasn't his business, and he had no qualms about leaving it that way.

Then she shifted, getting ready to remove herself from her straddling position, and that was when he moved. Quick, smooth, and unavoidable he sat up, spreading his legs to a near side-to-side split to bring them back around behind him, throwing his weight forward. With a second thud he heard that burgundy head collide with metal as she fell backwards beneath him, his hands grabbing hers and pinning them above her. Both of them breathing heavily –Atton had been depriving himself of oxygen for a few minutes, after all- they locked gazes again, and then she did something he had expected least. She gave a low, cat-like chuckle, went slack, and thoroughly and utterly fell completely dead-away unconscious.

He waited a moment to make sure she really was unconscious, not wanting to fall for his own trick. He checked her pulse; quick and flighty but definitely there. He pulled off his own belt and tied it around her wrists. With nothing to tie her feet, he settled for trusting his own strength, which wasn't all that egotistic given her weakened state, even if she should wake up. He hoisted her into his arms o'er the threshold style, rather than over his shoulder like he would have preferred, given that the latter would have left her feet free to kick his face bloody or his groin unusable should she wake up, neither of which was worth risking in favor over the indignity he felt for carrying her lover-style.

Returning to the starboard dormitory, Atton came across his gnawed-apart ropes and knots with something approaching hilarity- the rat had _chewed_ through his ropes? Trying not to laugh at the absurdity of it, he swept the ropes aside with one hand while setting her down, bum-first, on the bunk. He let his hand run through her hair for a long moment, not necessarily to feel the unexpected silkiness of it –women who bore the look of roughing-it-nomads normally didn't bother with luxuries like hair care- but to inspect the double egg bumps rising from the back and side of her skull. Deft fingers probed gently, trying to feel if there was any bleeding beneath the flesh and bone. Determining that there was none, he let her head fall back to the pillow and set to scavenging what he could of the chewed up ropes, biting his lip in amusement the whole time.

Little rat…

* * *

Nad Haddu…the only spot of civilization within a week's travel, even in hyperspace. And since Atton had discovered the hard way since settling the Jedi in bed and cleaning himself up –the bruises around his neck would take a while to fade, and swallowing was a chore- that the ship was completely bereft of food and medicine, he really didn't have much choice other than to set down on it. He generally avoided Hutt-controlled planets, Nar Shaddaa being the exception since he knew it so well. 

Since there was nothing in the _Ebon Hawk's_ computers about the planet, Atton was forced to draw on his own spotty memory of the place. One of the more out of the way Hutt Boss controlled planets, it was the only habitable rock in it's system, and even then only barely, with most of the bigger cities covered in domes that encouraged the interior atmosphere to be more inviting, which wasn't saying much if he remembered correctly.

Still, the only other planet was a week and a few days, and he wasn't willing to go that long without proper food and medical care, either for himself or the Jedi. He still didn't think those bumps on her head were lethal, but it had been two days now and she hadn't stirred, and he was beginning to worry that she'd fallen into some sort of coma, but without the proper medical equipment, the kind that had been striped from the medical bay, he had no idea for certain. And since he doubted Goto would appreciate a dead or permanently comatose Jedi, something that would probably result in Atton not getting paid, Atton was willing to quell is personal dislike for Nad Haddu long enough to transmit a request for docking clearance as soon as he was within communications range.

God, he could use a shot or two of juma right about now…or even some actual wine would be nice. He had the credits for it, for once, Goto's generous advance sitting comfortably in the footlocker hidden beneath the galaxy map. Maybe he'd hire some muscle to keep an eye on the Jedi for him while he went out for a bit, found himself a nice dancer or two and twice that many bottles of choice juma.

He wished.

With a sigh and knowing he'd probably leave the ship only to buy the supplies and pay the Dockmaster for the repairs and fuel he planned on getting while he was there, Atton sat back and waited for clearance to land.

* * *

There was, Aelyn decided, one distinct advantage she'd discovered to so unexpectedly regaining her Force sense, one of them being a healing trance. Able to pass for deep sleep or even a coma, an experienced Jedi could use it to heal wounds that would normally take weeks, even months, in mere days. As it was, when Aelyn at last awoke all she felt were the faintest trace of a mild headache, as if waking up from a nap after a particularly grueling work out. 

Just in time it seemed, too, as she almost immediately after awakening felt the distinct hum of the engines switching 'gears' as it were, going from spatial to atmospheric. She felt the underside repulsorlifts activated with a sharp lurch, and inertia at last relented its hold on her. A moment later, and a soft jolt rocked the whole room. The ship had set down. Where, was the question…

A few moments later, footsteps echoed outside the dormitory, and Aelyn quickly settled herself into an image of perfectly convincing unconsciousness. Force knew she'd been doing it well enough the past few days…even if it had been unintentionally.

She recognized the sense of him immediately. It was the pilot she'd grappled with so briefly and so roughly in the cockpit and main hold, the first to best her in a long time. Granted, she was never very good at hand-to-hand in the first place. Give her a vibrosword, or even just a single vibrodagger and she was formidable, but with nothing? She could hold her own, but her ways of avoiding people at all costs these past four years hadn't done her any good in the way of transforming her academy training into real life experience, something that her opponent had obviously possessed in plenty.

The pilot entered the dormitory, crossing the room in seven quick strides. Deft, calloused hands checked and double checked all the knots that bound her, conveniently locating all of them for her. Her hands were tied, as were her elbows, knees, ankles, and in between. She was well and truly hog-tied this time…

Then he left, and she waited until she'd felt his presence leave the ship entirely, then she opened her eyes and set to work on the knots. Again.

It took her three times as long as the first time to get through just one of the knots on her hands, and she'd had to rest several times- she wasn't as healed as she thought; her head had taken to pounding several times during her quest, a sort of pounding that let her know there had been more damage sustained by her bumps with the holo-emitter and the floor than she'd thought. That, and her teeth were beginning to gain a red sheen from her broken gums. She spat a globule of blood and saliva across the room, wincing as she did so. She'd managed to split one of her dry lips in the process, too…

So, chewing through wasn't going to work this time, not if she wanted any teeth or lips left when she was done.

She thought long and hard, and eventually came to an idea so absurd and far flung into her past it made her grin with the ironic twist of fate and one's youthful, useless pursuits could bring.

Once, when Aelyn had been fascinated with one thing in particular she knew she could never have –as was her habit- she'd discovered that when giving birth, a woman's hips often disjointed completely, that the socket joints of the hips were _meant_ to be dislocated. She'd coupled that knowledge with the skills utilized by many people who didn't want to be caught but often were. Namely, the skill of dislocating one's own shoulder joints by muscle control alone, to better wiggle out of tight situations –usually cuffs of some kind. Aelyn had learned, over a long period of several years, to at will disjoint not only her hips, but her shoulders, wrists, and ankles. The Force helped, so she hadn't attempted fiddling with any of them for over five years, but now that it was back…

With her wrists disjointed completely, it was a simple matter of folding up her already small hands to slip through the tight bonds. A quick succession of disjoint-slip-rejoint had her free of the ropes in minutes, although her aching body and grit teeth made it slow going for a moment once she got to the part that required her to actually stand up and _move_… But the pain faded, with the aid of the Force –she winced as she used it again, still not accustomed to how easily she was accustomed to it… It was a paradox, and she knew it, and didn't care. Soon as she was out of this damning situation –whatever situation it was- she'd tuck the Force into the back of her consciousness and forget it had ever returned, regardless of why or how it had done so. She didn't care; she didn't want this, not now, not ever again.

The pilot had left her in the pants and shirt she'd stolen, but had taken back the belt; the oversized shirt quickly made its way down over one shoulder, nearly to her elbow. Only the prominent protrusion of her right breast kept the thing from falling off completely. Finding a quick solution and using it, Aelyn knotted up the back of the shirt and twisted it up and under. It left a good portion of her midriff bared, but at the moment she could care less. She did, however, remember the limp, well-worn vest she'd bypassed in the footlocker the last time she'd rifled through it, and she fetched it now and slipped it on. It had the dual purpose of making her look not quite so rag-tag, and aiding her flailing modesty a bit.

Shoes would have to wait, she decided with a wince. Not that she hadn't gone barefoot before, but the last time had been when she'd been a kid growing up on her parent's farm, before the Jedi had found her… Most of her calluses from that time, while still there, had withered away. What remained, though, would have to serve.

Now knowing that there was no one aboard the ship –by experience and sense, now that she'd resigned herself to using the Force for now, Aelyn moved quicker than her last exploration quest from the dormitory to the main hold, through it to the other side of the ship. A quick exploration turned up as little as her first exploration of the first half, certainly no weapons. Thinking back, she remembered the only place she hadn't looked- that oddly locked little storage closet in the main hold. She went back to it, located the pipe she'd used so recently to nearly strangle her captor, and set to smashing the door to bits if necessary.

She _was_ going to get off this ship. Period.

Eventually, the door gave way with an indignant squeal, and revealed to her delight a small rusted up locker-

That proved to be empty. She scowled. Damnit… All right, fine, wherever she was she'd have to avoid people –not a difficult thing for her- to minimize the chance of confrontation until she got her hands on a decent weapon. Preferably something long and sharp...

The hope of finding weapons on the ship finally deflated, she set to contemplating her actual escape from the ship itself… She couldn't try the boarding ramp. They were probably at some sort of re-supply station, and the pilot had probably declared himself as being alone. To waltz on off that way would invite trouble she didn't need. What she did need was to slip away quietly and find passage off…wherever she was. She'd like to find out, if possible, how the hell she'd ended up on this freighter reeking of kolto and under, apparently, the imprisonment of a man that didn't have the look of a bounty hunter of him… Then again, with the bounty she'd heard had been placed on Jedi, it wouldn't surprise her if a few amateurs had tried their hands at it.

She snorted, still trying to think of a way off the ship. Just her luck; a Jedi, a legendary General of the Mandalorian Wars, caught by a rookie…it would fit her pattern of luck in life. But then something caught her memory. Faint, faint enough that it was entirely possible it was a dream or a story she was recalling, not a memory. On board a similarly sized transport ship, outbound from some battleground or other, when all the droids had been occupied by repairs and a tech in an enviro suit had made the trip out onto the exterior of the ship…

Aelyn turned, heading into the bowels of the ship where she assumed the engine would be located. Near it, most likely, would be the lift to the outside of the ship. She nearly ran right past what she was looking for; it was a narrow niche in the wall, with little more than a ladder, a raising pad, and a control console next to it. It took her a brief moment to access the controls, then she'd hoped onto the raising pad the moment it started moving. Above her, the hatch unlocked itself… She calmed her racing heart, praying that the joints were either well oiled or well used and wouldn't make too much of an audible fuss, also praying that wherever she came out wasn't in plain view of someone she didn't want to see her…

The hatch opened. As she'd risen up to it, she'd crouched down so that when the raising pad was flush with the exterior of the ship she was hugging the ship as low as she could. The smells assaulted her first, then the blaring light, then the heat, then humidity of that heat…then the noise…

They'd put down in a space port, all right. The scents of fuel, thousands of unwashed bodies, superheated metal, dirt and grime, lies, greed, and death permeated this place as thickly as the air that carried those scents. The air itself, too, was rancid with a humid heat that had the hairs framing Aelyn's face curling in moments.

She'd forgotten the reason why she'd always avoided the more extremely conditioned planets, going for mild places akin to Dantooine. She hated extreme cold, and she absolutely loathed humidity. Dry heat was fine, but whatever deity thought it was a smart idea to mix water and heat was, in her opinion, desperate for a second opinion that he obviously never got…

Wondering how her thoughts had degraded to contemplating the weather, Aelyn spun, still crouching, to do a three-sixty search. Nothing. There were towering buildings all around her, but none so tall as some places she'd been, and what windows weren't boarded up or broken were dark. Quickly, Aelyn scrambled silently to the edge of the ship a good ways away- the ship looked bigger from the outside, she mussed before peering over the edge she came too, waiting for a tech to disappear into one of the maintanence sheds. To her right, she spied a huge refueling pipe hooked up to the ship. That would take a while, she guessed. She estimated she had about an hour before her lovely pilot found her missing…plenty of time to get clean away.

Doing her best to radiate a 'just another tech, don't mind me' vibe, Aelyn slipped over the edge of the ship, dropping down into it's shadow and skipping backwards to duck behind one of the landing feet. She waited a heartbeat, extended her senses –all of them, one with a wince- to make sure no one was coming directly her way, and darted out again to skid behind a pile of filthy, decomposing wooden crates. The ground she scampered over might have been solid duracrete, once, but now it was little more than a coalition of cracked stone and hard packed dirt, with a layer of rain-wetted grime to act as a sort of unintentional sealant.

She went on to slip behind another pile of crates further on along the wall that she had identified as being circular- the landing pad hosting the ship was a big circle, she deduced, and the exit had to be somewhere in this wall… Next pile of rubble she ducked behind was barely big enough to conceal her, and certainly not big enough to block completely from her sight the last thing she wanted to see. Apparently she'd either taken longer to get off the ship than she'd thought, or her pilot friend was quicker than she'd anticipated. Probably a combination of both, she thought with a wince. Five years of care-free isolation didn't help one's sense of time.

He was standing there, the harsh sun casting a dramatic shadow behind him as he stood with bags of supplies at his feet and his arms crossed over a broad chest as he glowered at a greasy-looking Bothan who was also drawing himself up in an attempt at intimidation.

"Look," her pilot snarled. "I don't care what your little gizka of a spy told you I won at the pazaak den. I'm paying what we agreed on. If you don't like it, take it up with Goto. You know, the boss of the entire exchange?"

Aelyn shifted. This looked like it might get messy, and messy meant busy, and busy meant distraction…she could make a rush for it, then. Tentatively, she extended her Force sense to monitor their emotions, to give her a hint of when was the right time to bolt past the Bothan Dockmaster and her pilot captor.

The Bothan's fur ruffled as he gave a gawwuff of a laugh. "You think me a fool, human? You think I believe that one such as you knows Goto? Better yet, you think I care? Vabbo is lord here. That all that matter to me and my business. Now, you pay addition I make to original agreement, or I not disengage fuel line. Be bad boom, eh, if you try to take off with it still attached, eh?"

Aelyn slipped slowly out from behind the rubble, keeping to the shadows of the wall and inching to hide beside a bulky control console set against the wall. She peeked out from behind it, waiting…

"Listen, you overblown-" the pilot's hand went to a modified blaster at his side, his temper flaring. Behind the Dockmaster, two of his goons reached for their own weapons, while a third-

The third goon shouted something, and Aelyn realized with a sudden abruptness that the shout had been directed at _her_. She blinked, then with the Dockmaster suddenly shouting something about double-crossing and lying about him being alone, Aelyn belatedly realized that the control console she was hiding behind was also the fuel-line controls…

Cursing, she bolted, calling on the Force to give her a burst of speed. The head rush was just as she remembered it, dizzying and intoxicating as she blurred past the Dockmaster, her pilot, and the goons and flashed through the exit, down the corridor, through another door, down another hall…She lost track, focusing on simply _running_.

When she came out into blinding sunlight at the same time her burst of speed faded out of her system, Aelyn gave a cry at the sudden dual shock of the light and the snap of the return of normalcy around her, and threw herself back against the wall beside the door she'd just burst out of, into the shadow of the building. She leaned heavily, breathing deeply, but not heaving. Her head was pounding, but not intolerably so, and probably in no little part due to the light.

She'd spent too many years aboard darkened freighters and frigates, she decided, forcing herself back out into the sunlight at a fast jog. She slipped down an alley to her right, and came out at the other end into a busy street. She let herself mingle with the crowd at a moderately fast pace. She let herself relax as bit, now under the cover of the crowd. She still needed to get away; no doubt she'd be chased. Behind her, she expected to hear the roar of engines as her pilot took off, any time now. He'd been right near the ramp, she remembered; he should have had plenty of time to dart back aboard and get away, provided she was right in that the Dockmaster and the goons would have been temporarily surprised and occupied by her unexpectedly swift passing…

But when the loud noise from behind her did meet her ears, it wasn't the noise of a ship's sublight atmospheric engines carrying the _Ebon Hawk_ off this sinkhole. Instead, she gasped as a blaster bolt zinged past her right ear, and she threw herself to the side, almost colliding with another red streak zipped past her left side. She spared a glance behind her as the crowd around her parted with an initial collective cry of surprise then quickly shuffled in silence into alleys, out of the way. Obviously, this kind of thing was common here…

A shout went up behind her, and Aelyn spared a second glance. This time, with the crowd having dissipated, she spotted her pursuers. To her surprise, the brown-haired pilot was right behind her, charging at her with a speed she hadn't thought the bigger man capable of, despite his overall leanness. Behind him, though, were the Dockmaster and his original three goons, plus some extra. All of them were firing at not only her, but the pilot as well. She spied the pilot's determined, absolutely fierce expression and decided she didn't want either of them catching her. She turned to face forward again, nearly colliding with a cart that had been abandoned in the middle of the road. Too late to side step it, she coiled her thigh and calve muscles and leaped right over it, crouching in mid air and raising her arms to the side as she did so for balance and height. She came to a dusty landing on the other side, on one bended knee for only the briefest of moments before she was up and running again, swerving sharply into a side street, hoping she'd done so quick enough that the cart would have blocked her chasers from seeing her do so.

Her plan, while it seemed to work, backfired when she came up sharp to a dead end. She had a split second to see that only a small section of the actual wall blocking her path was visible, most of it taken up by collapsing mountains of crates and debris. She threw herself into the small space between the corner-filling piles of 'stuff' and crouching down low as she could, whirling at the same time-

Then instantly jerking herself to her feet again when she saw one of her would-be-predators dart into the alley, barely half a minute behind her. The pilot charged down the alley, eyes intent and thoroughly dangerous as she tried to dart past him, only to find an arm around her waist throwing her back between the crate-piles. She shoved back, twisting out of his grip and maneuvering to slip past his left-

A hand grabbed the prominent knot made between her shoulder blades by the excess shirt fabric she'd twisted up there, hauling her back to him once more. Rather than fight the pull, she turned as he yanked, hoping to catch him off guard by bringing her fist around with her-

But he caught that, too, twisting it up and behind her as he turned them both so her back was against the slender slice of wall, her other arm trapped between them as he shoved his hip into her stomach, pinning her to the wall as neatly as he'd pinned her to the floor not so long ago.

She glared up at him, and he glared down.

"Stay quiet," he hissed unexpectedly. She blinked up at him, and then peered over his shoulder. Out in the street, perfectly in sight of them, the Dockmaster and his goons stood around with the Bothan yelling furiously and pointing every which way, ordering his men to search various directions… They must be deep enough in the shadows of the crates, she supposed, that he couldn't quite see them. Bothans didn't have the best night vision, which would make it difficult for him to peer through the shadows that cloaked her and the pilot.

Her gaze snapped back up to her current captor, who still held her in an embrace that could have been considered erotic if her shoulder weren't screaming and if his hip in her stomach wasn't pressing so painfully on her kidney. His free hand, too, the one not holding her left arm behind her, was clamped around her throat, to add insult to injury. She swallowed thickly, her breathing labored with the effort of drawing breath past his hand and trying to keep that same breathing quiet. He looked down at her for a long moment, then with deliberate slowness he released the pressure from around her neck. Something unidentifiable passed over his visage for the briefest of moments, something she found herself quite curious about for an equally brief moment before she shoved it aside.

"They're going to come down here eventually," she hissed at the pilot. She wondered if she should bother asking his name, then dismissed it- she wouldn't be in his presence much longer to make it worth it, she told herself.

"Gee, y'think?" the pilot growled down at her. She glowered at him, setting her chin stubbornly.

"Yeah, I think," she hissed up at him, trying to keep her own vehement voice quiet. "Something you obviously don't, or you'd know we need to do something so that when they _do _come down here they don't find a smuggler and a…a stray woman that match the description they've undoubtedly put out already."

The pilot stared down at her for a long, glowering, borderline hateful moment before he did something completely unexpected. He released her, just a bit, taking his hip out of her abdomen and using the hand that had been on her neck to help himself in shrugging off the thick ribbed jacket he wore and tossing it into a nearby crate, out of sight. His outer shirt followed, and he tugged his robe-style undershirt out from his pants, letting it fall open, a broad, well-defined chest exposed to the humid air.

Having absolutely no idea what he was doing, she used her newly free hand –the one that had been trapped between them- to grab his hand when it came up to her face in an iron grip.

"What the hell do you think you're do-"

"Making sure that when they do come down here, they don't find a smuggler and a stray woman," he snapped at her, yanking his hand free with surprising strength and reaching around behind her head to yank the thin cord she'd scavenged off the ship to tie her hair back with out of her shoulder-length burgundy tresses. She grit her teeth against a shout of 'ouch' and endured his hand running roughly over the still-present egg bumps on her scalp as he ruffled her hair, tousling it and pulling it forward over her shoulders. He tugged none too gently on the single, silver-wrapped tendril that fell out from behind her right ear for good measure.

Her stolen vest followed his into the crate at the same time a shout went up. Aelyn glanced past the pilot's higher shoulder to see a trio of rent-a-security-goons jogging towards the alleyway entrance from across the street, out of an opposing alley that had a more obvious entrance than the one they were hiding in.

"Here they come," she ground out. "Now what exactly was it that you were planning, hot-shot? Did you honestly think a few less layers of clothing was going to change our looks enough that-" She at last looked away from the alleyway entrance that the trio was rapidly nearing, only to suddenly and abruptly discover what it was, exactly, her captor had had in mind as a way of disguise. She gave a sharp protest that was half a gasp, half a squeal into the surprisingly warm, even more surprisingly soft mouth that was inexplicably covering hers, and a second, sharp inhalation of breath as a pair of large hands fastened themselves on her waist and lifted her up against the wall, only to let her fall back down onto a strong knee that had also been pressed against the wall- between her legs.

Despite her shock and revulsion –and tinge of embarrassment- she caught on instantly. She peeked open one eye; the trio had entered the alleyway, and had spotted them, hesitating when the spied not two escaped supposed-thieves but instead a pair of apparently quite adamant lovers…

Swallowing pride and embarrassment both, Aelyn flung her arms around the nameless pilot's shoulders, one hand sliding into his hair and shoving his head closer to hers, angling her own, slanting her lips against his. She raised her legs and wrapped them around his waist, still supported by that knee beneath her.

Simultaneously, she slammed down her emotional walls as hard and as thick as she could. There was a reason Jedi weren't supposed to indulge in acts of romance or lust. Horrible stories had circulated the academy when she'd been a Padawan, stories she didn't think she was in danger of repeating since she certainly wasn't lusting or romantically involved with this…this man, but she wasn't taking any chances.

But it was harder than she'd anticipated. Some life-long, deeply ingrained habits died hard, abstinence being one of them. With a touch of bewildered curiosity in the furthest corners of Aelyn's mind, she realized that this was the equivalent of her first kiss… A flood of emotion threatened to undo her walls, and she reinforced them, the embrace and kiss growing all the harsher for it. She peeked open one eye, peering through her lashes to take a distracted inventory of their observers-

And found that they were gone. Abruptly and with a horrified sort of shock, she realized they'd been gone for a long time.

The exile tore herself away from her would-be-captor, hard enough that the back of her head smacked the wall behind her. Breathing heavily, she untangled her hands from his hair and planted them on his chest and _shoved_. He stumbled back, nearly as out-of-it as she was. She fell to her feet, unnerved to suddenly realize how damp her flesh was, how hot her blood felt rushing through her body, and how the curls of something alien in her belly and lower regions weren't exactly unpleasant…

They stared at each other for a long, hard, potent moment before he snapped out of it first, snarling at her as his hand darted into the crate and snatched back his shirt and jacket. "Schutta rat," he snarled at her.

"Sith-blood bastard," she threw back, grabbing at her own vest, realizing with belated shock that her borrowed shirt was hanging precariously low over one shoulder, the knot at her back undone completely. She twisted the shirt back up into some semblance of proper fitting and slipped the vest back on. For the moment, they both seemed to have forgotten that one was supposed to be the prisoner of the other, for whatever mysterious reason she'd yet to figure out. But when she did remember, cursing herself for not running the moment she was free, she waited until his hands were occupied with shrugging on his ribbed jacket, and darted low past him to his left, breaking for the alleyway entrance-

Only to give a howl of expletive-filled frustration when she was tackled from behind. Again. She twisted, kicked, and she bit, deftly twisting free again and this time instead of running she jumped. She jumped straight up, hooking her hands onto the wooden beams above her, between the two buildings that formed the alleyway. She swung herself up- only to have one leg yanked back down, painfully. Her shoulders gave a wrench, and she glowered down at the man who was clinging to her ankle, glaring up at her with equal ferocity. It occurred to Aelyn for the first time that there was more to this man than mere amateur's luck at catching her. Dread sank into the pit of her stomach- was it possible? It certainly was, if this pilot's ability to keep up with her, match her blow for blow, chase for chase was any indication. Last time she checked, the only kind of people who were generally capable of keeping up with a Jedi –even an ex-Jedi- with this much consistency were…

But that was a contemplation for later. She hadn't allowed herself to be captured during the Mandalorian Wars, the little bit of the Jedi Civil War she'd been present for, or the entirety of her exile, and she wasn't about to break that favorable habit of hers now. She kicked at her parasite, trying to shake him off. His response was to climb up her leg, strong hands digging into her flesh, the thick leather giving good traction. She tried again, this time using a touch of the Force to befuddle him for a moment, weaken his hold on her. She shook again, and this time he fell. He figured out what she'd done the moment he was suddenly falling, and for a split second she got a glimpse of the utter hatred and revulsion blasted upwards at her as she, at last free, swung up on top of the beam she'd been hanging from.

Suddenly shaken, just a bit, by the force of the hatred she'd felt from him and seen from his eyes, she forced herself to shake it off and run along the beam, make a leap for the building closest to her…

Luck, she knew better at that following moment than at any other time during her life, was a fickle thing. The beam beneath her crackled and splintered, then gave way completely. She grabbed for another beam, missed, and fell straight down into the waiting arms of the tousle-haired pilot whose company she'd just left. He wasted no time in wrestling her to the ground, on her stomach, and sitting on her. Her hands were twisted up behind her before she fully realized she wasn't falling anymore, a rope –no doubt pulled from the nearby garbage piles- twisted around her wrists. She cursed the luck of fate that had not only let that beam be a weak one, but that had so conveniently provided that rope… Did the Force hate her, or something? Really, did it? It must, after all it had done to her over the years…

He hauled her to her feet, one hand gripping the rope between her hands and the other hand taking a good hold on a thick clump of her hair to do so. Gritting her teeth she ignored the pain in her scalp, concentrating on getting her feet beneath her. She contemplated trying to run again. But she hadn't gotten far last time, and that had been with her hands free and with him caught off guard… No, running from this guy or even flat out fighting him wasn't going to work. It was time for a new tactic.

She kept quiet, hearing the pilot behind her catch what little breath he needed to catch as he marched her out of the alley, both of them automatically looking around cautiously before continuing in the direction she identified as one that would take them back to the _Ebon Hawk_. The streets had begun to fill, again, and the abandoned cart she'd leapt over had been stripped clean. She passed the owner standing by it forlornly, and she felt a flash of pity for the briefest of moments before she squashed it- there was nothing she could do.

Under the cover of the rising volume of street noise around them, Aelyn ventured to speak. "So, do this often?" She inquired with steel-underlain casualness.

"Used to," he responded with a flippancy that was equally icy. "Made a special come-back case for you, though."

"I'm flattered," she snarled openly, sensing the dark amusement from her captor behind her.

"You should be," came the harsh whisper near her ear, and she tensed, wanting desperately to lash out… Caught off guard by the strength of her own emotions, she forced herself to take a deep breath and run through a set of all too familiar calming techniques… They worked, for the moment, and Aelyn redirected her attention towards memorizing the path they took, just in case she managed to escape again before they took off. She forced herself, while memorizing, to acknowledge that her years away from other people had eroded her ability to control her natural temper, acknowledge that she'd need to work on her control over it. Again. She suppressed a sigh, and made a note of a particularly sudden turn they made. Her captor was taking the long way around to get back to the ship, probably hoping that the Dockmaster was too busy out looking for them to have the ship too heavily guarded.

It was a plausible hope, she admitted, but ultimately foolish, as he soon discovered when they spied the entrance to their landing pad guarded by four of the Dockmaster's goons; a Rodian and three humans.

"Distract them," the pilot whispered lowly in her ear. She tensed, and he repeated, "Use one of those manipulative little Jedi tricks, and distract them. Make them hear footfalls over there in that alley, or see an outline of me running away. Something. _Distract them_." The round point of a small blaster's nasty end pressed into the small of her back reinforced his insistence. While she doubted he would kill her –he wouldn't have gone to all the trouble to keep her alive in the alleyway- she did believe that he wouldn't be averse to damaging a limb or two to get what he wanted. There was a hint of darkness around the edges of his mind that she thought she'd sensed before, but was perfectly prominent now. Brought out when she'd used her Force powers to confuse him into letting go of her, back in the alley? She had the sneaking suspicion that was the case…

With a suppressed sigh she closed her eyes, reaching out with her mind to touch the weaker ones of the four goon-guards. A moment later, one of them insisted he'd seen two figures duck out of sight behind the corner of as street farthest from them, and another nudge convinced all four to over there instead of the two one of them suggested. As soon as they were far enough away and all four backs to them, Aelyn found herself shoved ahead, and they were running flat out for the entrance to the landing pad. They dived inside and to the right just as she felt their interest in the faked glimpse evaporate. Just ahead of them, the boarding ramp of the _Ebon Hawk_ was lowered invitingly. Aelyn had a split second to realize that, suspiciously, the ramp wasn't guarded, and another moment to sense that there wasn't anyone outside the ship on the landing pad with them… In the third moment, her pilot captor was shoving her forward again, to the ramp, up the ramp, into the ship…

And straight into a circle of four Bothan stunners, two repeater rifles, and one hold-out blaster.

"Want me to distract them, too?" Aelyn drawled a split moment before the butt of one of the stunners introduced her and the pilot both to unconsciousness.

**To Be Continued…**

* * *

All right, hoping for a bit better response to this chapter than for the last chapter, which I realize was little more than a mildly enticing set-up chapter. I enjoyed writing this chapter immensely…I love building the tension between Atton and the Exile. 

As for the impromptu make-out scene in the alley that some of you might deduce as being too soon, keep in mind that Atton now hates Aelyn more than ever, and just think of the confusion and resistance that stunt will add to the mix when they start to develop real feelings for one another. I'm not trying to get them together in only the second chapter and jump the gun here; quite the contrary, I simple thought this would be an amusing and effective way of setting up some delicious turmoil for them to deal with later.

Until next update, lovies!

-_Amber Penglass_


	3. Chapter II

_**Orphic Verboten**_

_Amber Penglass_

**Chapter II**

* * *

**Snackfiend101:** First off, thanks for such a lovely long review! Second, the title is actually Latin, for 'Forbidden Fascination.' I think it fits our darling stars perfectly, ne? Edit: Thanks for the clean-up review! Half of them I missed in my own re-read! What would I do without you? 

**xThe Vixen:** Awwwww, I love you Aleks! Nice job with 'Dandelion' btw…you know how much I love your Kitty/Duo snippits….

**Luren:** Don't worry, there will be plenty of 'impromptu' steamy stuff… A lot of people are afraid to put it in because they're afraid it'll end up 'slutty' but hey, I like taking risks… Glad you liked your present! Just wait til you find out who Luren-the-character is…you'll love it…

**Kathleen:** This fic will definitely get finished, one way or the other, even if it means posting my messy summary that I'm writing by, you guys will see this finished.

**And of course to,** Mellyna, Adrianna, Glass Mermaid, Jedi-Falen, Pheonixascending, Jewel34

* * *

She was drugged nearly to unconsciousness, pinpricks of brief pain alerting her to the method of delivery; more darts. The world around her was blurry. Her senses –sight, sound, smell, touch, hearing- were warped and distorted beyond recognition. For the first time since it had returned, Aelyn couldn't ignore that the Force had been restored to her, and that it was useful to her now. Only through the Force was she able to tell that she was alone wherever she was, and that 'wherever' was not the _Ebon Hawk_. And when her solitary status altered, only the Force alerted her to the presence of another. 

She couldn't tell who was in the room with her, couldn't even tell the species or gender, but someone was definitely there, outlined against her sixth sense like a blurry, muddy silhouette. She concentrated on clearing the poisons from her system, evening her breathing and focusing on clarifying the world around her. She could only hope whoever was there didn't leave before she was coherent enough to ask what the hell was going on…

Then it was gone- all of it, suddenly and completely. Cheap drugs, Aelyn realized, to have broken down so quickly and so easily. She blinked, somewhat surprised at the swiftness with which clarity had been gained. She fought to remain outwardly inept and drowsy. No reason to alert her (new) captors to her newly aware status.

"…settled, then." A Bothan, Aelyn identified the heavily accented Basic. He sounded familiar…

"Pleasure doing business with you," another replied, then barked something in a language Aelyn thought sounded familiar, but not enough for her to decipher its meaning. The meaning translated itself, however, when a moment later several sets of heavy footfalls announced the entrance of what Aelyn could only assume were some sort of guards…

Scaly-feeling hands removed the manacles Aelyn had only faintly registered, then clamped down around her upper arms. Before they could fully assert their grip, she moved. Surprise granted her the advantage she needed to yank her arms out of their fleshy confines. Her eyes snapped open, taking in everything in one brief sweep of a glance. Then she was moving, swinging low around her right-most would-be captor –a Gamorrean?- and twisting to avoid the diving grab of the second hog-like alien.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw it; she ducked low, whirling as she thrust her arm up after it, snatching the dart out of the air as it whizzed past above her left shoulder. With seamless grace she spun on her heel, still crouching low, and flung it back in the direction it had come from. Not taking the time to see if it had hit its target, Aelyn spied the door and made a running leap up and over the cowering Bothan blocking her way-

Only to have a lancing, senses-shattering electric pain clamp down around her throat like a barbed vice. She gave an involuntary cry and fell to the floor, writhering. Another cry caught in her throat, her face contorted in a silent scream…

Then it was gone, and she lay, gasping, on the gold metal floor of wherever she was, her arms wrapped around her middle, unwashed hair splayed out behind her, shivering not with cold but with the after-convulsions of whatever it was that had just assaulted her. A trembling hand went to her throat… Collar. A damn restraining collar. They'd put a slave's device on her!

Cold dread settled suddenly into the pit of Aelyn's belly as she struggled to get to her knees, and a pair of shiny, booted feet planted themselves in front of her. Breathing harshly, Aelyn followed the boots up to the hems of a short, embroidered robe, then up to a wide, heavily decorated belt, then further up to see that robe parted to reveal a fine, nearly sheer shirt beneath it… Then at last to a face, a face far too handsome to be purely human, and the falsely benevolent smirk fixed there.

"Yes, yes indeed," the man said, partially over his shoulder to the Bothan –the Dockmaster, Aelyn remembered abruptly. "Yes, pleasure doing business with you, indeed." He snapped his fingers to the Gamorreans, who at once toddled over to her, reaching down past their considerable girths to grip her arms and haul her to her feet. Tortured muscles screamed in protest, but Aelyn grit her teeth, her gaze meeting and never leaving that of the confidently smirking man before her. It didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened…

Aelyn had been sold as a slave.

* * *

A week. It had taken Atton a week to contact Goto, and what had the aloof old geezer told him? 

'_Get the Jedi back at all costs, Atton Rand. She must not be allowed to slip away. I forbid it.'_

"'I forbid it,'" Atton echoed under his breath, scowling. At least he'd agreed to send Atton extra monetary funds. What he'd kept on the ship had been confiscated by the Dockmaster, though if all went well tonight, he'd probably get it back… Goto had told him he'd contact the Dockmaster himself, and that Atton should visit the Bothan the next night. Not quite sure what to expect, Atton kept the shadows once night fell as he slunk his way towards the docks.

He still wasn't entirely sure what had happened a week ago, when he and that Jedi had tried to get back to the _Ebon Hawk_. Darts and nets had come flying as soon as the woman's witty remark about distraction had come out of her mouth. She'd caught most of them, the only reason Atton was able to dodge the kicks and punches that had come his way. His survivor's luck had kicked in, allowing him to somehow dodge the rest of the attacks long enough to have back-pedaled off the ship and disappear into the crowds outside- again. Did he feel bad about leaving Aelyn Drae, Jedi, behind?

'_No, damnit,'_ he snarled at himself. _'Jedi, Jedi, Jedi… Oh, and in case you forgot, Rand,_ Jedi_!'_

No, of course he didn't feel bad. Not at all.

He fiddled with the hilt of his vibrodagger hooked onto his belt, beneath the cover of the voluminous black cloak he'd managed to pilfer while a smug stallkeeper had been occupied with a pretty flower girl. His lips quirked slightly as he found the door he was looking for and slid from the shadows like darkness come alive. That quirk became a wolfish grin- it had been far too long, he realized, since he'd done this sort of thing. He'd missed it.

He withdrew his small sonic blaster from his left thigh holster, and fired once, twice, into the control panel by the door, aiming carefully. With a screech of tortured gears and circuits, the door whizzed open. Inside, Atton heard something crash, and a curl of satisfaction formed in his stomach. Oh yes, he'd missed this…

He entered the abode with a flurry of dark fabric, glowering and stepping heavily to cut off the Bothan that darted from behind a couch to another door across the room. His hand found the creature's middle, slamming him back against the curving stone wall. Something meant to be decorative trembled on the wall with the resounding vibrations of the impact. One hand still pressed harshly against the Dockmaster's solar plexis, Atton's other hand shot out to grip the alien's furry neck. Another slam, this time knocking the Bothan's head against the wall, rattled the decorative thing free of its moorings and sent it crashing to the floor, shattering spectacularly.

"Aelyn Drae." Atton ground out the words, deepening his voice in an all too familiar way. "Where is she?"

"Wh-who?" Dockmaster was nervous, and rightly so, but thankfully not so much that he'd forgotten to speak Basic. Atton's Bothuwui was awful.

"Burgundy hair, silver hair-wrap behind her right ear. Short, curvy, green eyes… Riddled full of concussion darts last time I saw her. Ringing any bells?"

His captive swallowed against his hand, and Atton's sinister grin turned a shade darker. He tightened his grip when the Dockmaster didn't reply right away, eliciting a sound that was something between a bark and a squeal.

"No need to get violent…_more_ violent…" the Bothan growled, trying to regain a shred of dignity. "I cooperate, I told Goto I would! All right? I sold her! Sold her, human!"

Atton dragged the alien away from the wall, pulling it's dog-like face up to his as he snarled a low, "_What?_"

"Vabbo put out new sale offer just before you two land," the explanation began. Atton narrowed his eyes –not that they were visible beneath the deep hood he had pulled up- but said nothing, letting the Bothan continue. "I didn't even call her in, this I swear! Vabbo's man find out about her somehow, contacted me himself…"

"Oh yes, because it was such common knowledge that we were here," Atton's false tones of amusement were laced with ice, and he felt the Dockmaster go rigid with renewed fear.

"Me guesses he saw you two humans on your mad dash to get away from me, eh?"

"Possible," Atton conceded. Deciding that the physical part of intimidation had been satisfied, Atton threw the creature back against the wall, releasing him. The Dockmaster rubbed his throat, glowering at Atton but doing nothing more than that.

"Call this agent," Atton told him harshly. "Offer to buy her back. Double, if necessary. Triple, even, whatever it takes. Get her back."

The Bothan froze, "That would ruin me! Agent pay very highly for your woman. Besides, I already try to get her back; no cooperation."

"Too bad," the pilot snorted with false sympathy. "Try again."

"You must understand," the Bothan pressed. "Once slave is sold to Vabbo, slave never leaves alive."

Atton changed his mind; the physical intimidation part of this visit wasn't over after all. He took half a solid step forward, slamming the Dockmaster up against the wall a second time, leaning in close enough that the Bothan's rapid breaths wheezed across his face as he hissed, "You made three mistakes, Bothan. Mistake one; not cooperating with me in the first place with the fuel. Mistake two; selling someone who wasn't yours. Mistake three; not working with me _now_. You think you would have learned from the first time." He released pressure slightly, but whatever effort he'd put into gripping the Dockmaster's throat he now redirected to making his voice more meaningfully menacing than before.

"You can't buy her back, fine. Judging by the _fine_ accommodations of this place you call an apartment, I believe you. So here's what you _will _do. You will recommend me as a new servant to Vabbo. Not a slave. Servant. Then I'll get her out myself- but you will provide whatever I need, whenever I need it. Transportation, money, equipment, weapons, people. How does that sound?" His tone changed abruptly from that of undeniable command to amiable inquiry. He stepped back suddenly, and the Bothan stumbled before realizing that Atton was no longer holding him to the wall. He regained his balance, again rubbing his sore throat. Human hands, at least with this human, were stronger than they looked… It made the Dockmaster wonder just how many people this human pilot had held by the neck to have hands that strong, that adept at holding throats just right…

"That is…agreeable," the Bothan forced out. What choice did he have? It could have been worse, he realized, with Goto backing this man, this man who was in and of himself a force to be reckoned with. His disguise had been good, he realized belatedly, remembering the harmless space scoundrel who had attempted to buy fuel from him a week ago. Oh yes, there wasn't much of that simple spacer before him now, not much at all…

"Wonderful," Atton declared, a falsely pleasant smile on his face. "When can I expect to begin my employment?"

"Eh…Vabbo stop taking…er, 'applications' for now…" He held up his hands in defense when Atton's stance changed abruptly. Quickly, the Bothan added, "But he kills many! He always take new servants monthly! Since your woman was special case, he start taking more applications in…eh…week, tops!"

"A week." Atton paused, glowering. The Dockmaster swallowed, but did his best to maintain some form of dignity. He drew himself to stand straighter, and didn't cringe against the wall like he wanted to…

"I will, of course, provide housing, food, provisions, until your time come…"

"Smart of you." Atton said simply, then said nothing, as if waiting…

"Er," the Bothan scrambled for thought. Where could he put the pilot tonight? His own ship was the obvious answer, but he somehow thought that wasn't what this human expected. And to not do what was expected, right now, could cause serious repercussions later…

"There is tavern, west end of town," the Dockmaster told him suddenly. "I use their best room, from time to time. The tavern keeper owes me… You go there, I send word ahead that his repayment to me is to give you that room. It is a fine room…"

"Sounds good," the human responded casually enough, as if they were discussing business plans… Which in a way, they were, the Dockmaster admitted grudgingly. "What's this place called?"

"Bordu's Recluse," the Bothan supplied, daring to take a step from the wall, standing more freely on his own two feet. Atton filed the name away.

"Get me a commlink," he told his new 'partner.' "I'll need to contact you periodically. And of course you'll want a way to let me know when my employment is all in line…"

"Of course, of course," the Dockmaster muttered, moving to a set of shabby drawers across the room, giving the human pilot a wide berth. From one of the drawers he pulled two wrist comms. He switched them the same frequency, and tossed one to Atton, who caught it easily and stowed it beneath his cloak.

"Pleasure doing business with you," Atton quipped, a flash of teeth peeking from beneath the hood before he turned and left abruptly. Alone in his apartment, the Bothan shivered- last time someone had said that to him, he'd gotten a call from the biggest crime lord in the galaxy the next morning…

* * *

"Back off," came the harsh words, accompanied by a harsher grip. The man looked down at his wrist, only to find it encased in an iron grip. He sneered, following the hand holding his arm up to a dirty, tired, but thoroughly commanding female visage. 

"Or what?" The man jerked his hand away. When his challenger said nothing, only continued to glare levelly, his sneer heightened in derisive smugness as he turned again towards the trembling kitchen girl he'd been reaching for-

Then there was a hand at the base of his neck, hauling him back and tossing him against the far wall with a resounding smack that had the huddling girl gasping.

"Or that," the challenger declared, squaring her stance and planting her hands on her ample hips. Determination had replaced exhaustion, the man saw when he pushed away from the wall. His hand went to the back of his head and retreated, damp with blood. He glowered at the woman before him. He looked past her to the young girl trying to blend with the shadows, her blue eyes wide and rightfully fearful, but full of all the mustered defiance one could imagine.

"I'll find you alone eventually," he promised, and with a final glare at the burgundy haired woman that had interfered, he left the cellar.

"Thank you," the blonde girl said after a long, potent moment. She took a brave step forward, holding her chin high and blinking away the tears that had begun to gather in her eyes.

Aelyn Drae turned to look at the girl she'd saved from an encounter worse than death, and gave a tired smile. "Don't mention it," she said, reaching out to absently fluff a tendril of the girl's short-shorn blonde locks, cut so similar to Aelyn's. Her hand went automatically to where her silver twist of hair had once hung and winced. It had been her one concession to vanity over the years… She missed it.

One week- a whole week as a slave, and Aelyn had found it a most eye-opening experience. For the most part, things were going better than one might expect. She had not been raped (none had attempted after she had publicly defeated so easily her first would-be assailant), she was left alone for the most part, and she was fed. Barely, but she was fed.

That wasn't to say she didn't want out of Vogga's service as much as the next slave, but she supposed things could be worse…

She could be a dancer.

Thinking of her roommates, who _were_ dancers, Aelyn suppressed a shudder.

"Better finish your chores, and get off to bed," Aelyn told the girl, who nodded, rubbing the remnants of her would-be tears from her eyes and face before snatching up the basket she'd dropped, and dashing up the stairs. Aelyn extended her senses, just a bit, to make sure the girl's almost-attacker wasn't anywhere close. Satisfied, Aelyn let herself slip down into a corner, folding her legs automatically and leaning her head back into the corner, taking a deep, cleansing breath.

It had taken her a while, but eventually she'd found this place. The shelves between her and the stairway that led down into this cellar would prevent anyone from immediately spotting her, while if someone did see her, finding a slave in the cellar wasn't uncommon enough to arouse suspicion.

Meanwhile, Aelyn could gain her strength…

There was nothing better to get one to get over one's reluctance to accept something than to put one in a situation where that something is inarguably important. Such was the situation that forced Aelyn to swallow her pride –and fear, she felt free to admit to herself- and find this secluded place in which she could further re-establish her connection to the Force.

She hadn't meditated in a long, long…

It had been hard, at first, every little sound making her jump, the tiniest of thoughts distracting her completely. And some not so tiny ones, as well… But stubbornness was one of Aelyn's strong suits, and thankfully at this moment it served her purposes rather than derailed her from them. She refused to give up, and it had begun to pay off. Her ability to use the Force, before, had been sketchy and flickering –able to distract the minds of those guards, for instance, or confuse Atton when he'd been hanging on her legs, then in the next moments be able to do or sense nothing at all. Confidence had begun to return to her, first with little things like the levitation of foodstuffs around the room. Then the mental mapping-out of the minds around and above her, until she could recognize each person simply by feeling them through the Force, until she could follow the movements of half a dozen persons at once.

From then, it was as if she were doing nothing more than a refresher course. A week, and she was well on her way to regaining what she'd had before believed to be irrevocably lost. She was gaining strength. Physical strength, however, that was another matter. But there was little she could do about it, so she funneled what little strength wasn't taken by her daily activities into reconnecting as solidly and as quickly as she could with the Force.

She calmed her mind, letting all unnecessary thoughts flow from her consciousness like water off a stone. She reached out, feeling above her, on the kitchen level, the various minds and emotions of the five women she'd been working with for the past week. She spread her senses a bit further, and a slight hint of a frown marred her face when her 'feelers' encountered something new…yet not. It took her a moment to identify them, and she resisted the urge to recoil. Her roommates, the twin twi'lek dancers Ayy and Sinya. Only once before had Aelyn let her Force senses reach out to them, the first time she had realized that they were –unbeknownst to themselves- Force Sensitives. What she had felt then…

Many a night Aelyn had cursed her ability to understand the silky Twi'lek language as she lay awake, listening to the sisters detail bloody and gruesome revenge upon various patrons they had danced for that day.

She shivered, and broke her trance. She took a moment to orient herself in the real world once more, estimating she'd spent only an hour or two in meditation. Time to get back to work… But then she wondered about Ayy and Sinya. Rarely did they venture down from the slave's quarters or the more luxurious guest or entertainment levels. What were they doing down here? Frowning, Aelyn braced herself for the ugliness that was the twins' minds, and let herself reach out…

A plot. It wasn't much, but Aelyn had definitely gotten a brief glimpse of a batch of emotions equaling some sort of malicious plan. It took only a moment for Aelyn to brush away the 'live and let live' policy that was the rule of thumb in Vogga's household, and push herself up and out of her corner to make quick work of the space between her and the stairs, and then the stairs themselves. Whatever the twins were up to, she'd bet her new connection to the Force that it wasn't good…

Aelyn came up out of the stairwell, pausing at the entrance to the massive kitchen. The twi'lek twins were, for the most part, ignored as they wandered the kitchen, whispering and grinning to each other in soft twi'lek murmurs. The ex-Jedi kept to the shadows as she watched them, as she saw them –discreetly- watching the blonde girl Aelyn had so recently rescued. She watched them watch and wait til she left her post, then she watched them slip casually to her station, their hands slipping into the baskets of sweet dried fruits the girl had been working into the dough… _Expensive_ sweet dried fruits.

"Ayy, Sinya," Aelyn called, moving from the shadows, her voice casually –carefully- curious, and nothing more. "What are you doing down here?" The stairwell was nearly right next to the table, and both twi'leks jumped, together, and turned to face her. Any evidence of guilt was smoothly erased from their faces and postures, hands moving away from the baskets as the blonde girl came running back over. The girl was smart; Aelyn already saw, on her face, that the girl realized what had almost happened, knew that she would have been blamed if she had come up short of the sweets. She threw Aelyn yet another look of deep gratitude, while the twi'lek dancers glowered, subtly, at the green-eyed slave before them, their demeanors seething even without Aelyn's ability to sense the emotions they'd rather hide, not that they were really _trying_ to hide their anger with her…

"The lovely one addresses us?" Ayy purred, slinking around the table as her sister leaned against that same table, blocking the anxious blonde serving girl from returning to work. Annoyance flashed over her face, and she looked to Aelyn for help. Sighing, Aelyn moved past her roommates, hooking one arm around each of them. Dancing with vipers, the old quote slipped through her thoughts as the two alien women moved with her, both of them leaning into her, slinking their wiley arms around her waists and shoulders. Aelyn suppressed a shudder, and even more forcefully resisted memories of various obscene offers they'd made to her, night after night…

She moved away from them soon as they were out of the kitchens.

"She plays hot and cold," Sinya murmured, an unfamiliar danger flashing in her cat-like eyes. Aelyn moved away, smoothly.

"No, actually, not really," she corrected amiably enough, to the casual ear. Ayy and Sinya exchanged amused glances before taking following steps, closer again.

"That she plays at all, it is encouraging," Ayy said sweetly, reaching out to tug a strand of Aelyn's shortened locks. "A pity, your mane is…"

"Help you, we could, this you know," Sinya offered, yet again. Since her hair had been cut, the two had offered her various potions and elixirs supposedly guaranteed to grow hair quick, thick, and healthy. Now, Aelyn would normally have loved to accept –she missed the long hair she had indulged in during her academy days- but since she'd long ago figured out that her roommates seemed to have a fetish for long dark hair, she'd declined. Again. And again…

She swatted Ayy's hand away, and took yet another step back.

"No thanks," she reiterated. "You two should be getting ready for tonight, shouldn't you? You'd better get back upstairs." Leaving it at that, Aelyn turned and headed back for the kitchens, leaving the twins in the hallway behind her.

Ayy and Sinya watched the unconsciously graceful human walk away, and the sisters simmered with combined frustration and indignant anger. All they had wanted was a little fruit, and who cared if a lowly kitchen slave got the blame? And who was this lekku-less woman to defy them, in the many ways she had?

"The beautiful one needs a lesson," Ayy murmured, leaning into her sister.

"And we shall give it to her," Sinya agreed, gently playing with a slender tip of one of Ayy's lekku. Together they turned, whispering to one another as they went.

By the time Aelyn was released from her duties, later than usual for the sake of the elaborate party Vobba was throwing that night, one of the many that month, her roommates were ready for her.

Aelyn smelled it before the door was fully open, sliding aside to reveal Ayy laying on her pallet, her normally silvery skin a deathly shade of pink. The scent of sickness. Traces of perspiration made her brow and throat slick, and she was breathing with more effort than what was normal. Aelyn frowned, moving to kneel beside Sinya, whom was dabbing her sister's brow with a cool, wet cloth, seemingly without regard to her elaborate dancer's costume getting wet.

"It is not so bad," Ayy wheezed. "Believe me, sister, I can dance…"

"Stay and rest, my Ayy," Sinya murmured. "A gift to death, you will be if you press yourself…"

"But the Dance of the Twin Suns…Vabbo requested it… He will be most displeased… You cannot dance that dance alone, sister…" Ayy coughed, and Aelyn's frown deepened as she witness the exchange. Something was off, but she couldn't quite pinpoint what…

"I will beseech one of the other favored dancers," Sinya soothed. "We have yet an hour til the party…I will teach her the steps. We will paint her face, and no one shall know it is not you, not with the veil…"

"There are no other dancers of my height and shape, Sinya," Ayy admonished. "This, you know…"

Aelyn reached out with her senses, skirting around the waves of illness surrounding Ayy. She winced, having confirmed that Ayy was indeed sick. She wasn't faking. Still…warning bells were going off, even as Aelyn gave a breathy sigh and said, "I am similar to your shape and height, Ayy." She glanced over, meeting Sinya's gaze. "If you will teach it to me, I will dance in her place."

For all the sisters made Aelyn uneasy, she knew all too well of the punishments Vabbo delivered to his entertainers that displeased him. Even if their deception was discovered, she had a feeling she would be able to withstand whatever Vabbo would mete out better than Sinya or Ayy, especially in the latter's state.

Sinya simpered at her, "The beautiful slave is most generous! Come, we have much to prepare, and so little time…" She rose, reaching down with infinite grace to grip Aelyn's hand and pull her to her feet. With a suppressed sigh, Aelyn followed Sinya out of the room, down the hall, up to the next level… She was led to a large room, lavished with sweeping draperies and soft, plush carpeting. Sinya began calling in a harsh voice, and at once slaves in sheer, gently draping robes emerged from hidden doorways. Within moments Aelyn was stripped, shoved into a fresher with two of the sheer-garbed slaves, and scrubbed from head to toe. In minutes she was cleaner than she could remember being since before that pilot had accosted her (she still didn't know his name…).

A robe nearly as sheer as the ones worn by the slaves was produced, and swallowing her modesty, Aelyn slipped it on and let unfamiliar hands tie a golden cord around her waist. Back out of the refresher room and into the larger one, Aelyn found Sinya waiting. Draped over the chair next to her was an elaborate costume of exotic feathers, silver and unbelievably sheer black fabric.

"Later," Sinya told her, noticing how Aelyn had spied the garments with suspicion. She came to Aelyn, a sultry smile on that lovely alien face. She took Aelyn's hands in hers, and pulled her to the center of the room. "Come," she said sweetly. "We don't have much time… Now, stand beside me, lovely one… Yes, follow my movements…"

'_Just like a new fighting technique,'_ Aelyn told herself. _'Think of it as a lesson, back at the academy…racing to learn it better and quicker than Talvin…'_

Aelyn began to dance.

* * *

Atton resisted the urge to twitch with sudden, strong annoyance. At his waist, the commlink the Dockmaster had given him beeped urgently. The lanky, purple-skinned Zeltron in his lap giggled. 

"Go ahead and answer," she purred. "I'll wait…"

"Damn straight you will," he growled, taking a nip at her ear and eliciting a delighted, throaty laugh from her before snatching the commlink and snarling into it a, "What?"

"I have what you want," came the Dockmaster's unforgettably forced-steady tones. "But it will not be available for long- it is a single night only, a last minute requirement…"

"I'll be right there," Atton snapped, annoyed and yet pleased at the same time. It had taken him a few hours to get the edible Zeltron into his grasp, and yet he was eager to get off this rock, and out of this excuse for a tavern…

But there would be plenty other Zeltrons in his future. Right now, he had a slipper Jedi to recapture, and a bounty to claim. Ducking in to plant a lusty, moist kiss against the purple skin of her slender throat, Atton stood up. His lap-mate slid from his grasp, a look of annoyance of her own on her face.

"Leaving me already?" She complained.

"Sorry, duty calls," he said, tossing some creds onto the table to pay for their drinks, and with a quirky two-fingered wave he turned and left, grabbing his cloak off the back of his chair as he went. He swung the black thing over and around his shoulders, settling the hood up on his head as he exited the dim tavern.

* * *

"Do not be frightened," Sinya murmured beside Aelyn, whom had begun to absentmindedly twist a corner of the waist-length, silky-sheer veil around her fingers. She released the fabric, adjusting the incredibly low silver-metal waistband of the sheer, full black pants she wore. Only two curved silver disks with intricate designs in black diamonds covered her breasts, the disks held there with some sort of flesh-agreeable glue… 

Overall, the mess was entirely uncomfortable and whoever had designed it had obviously possessed no concept of modesty. But, she had to admit, she could _move_…

"I'm not nervous," She murmured back_. 'A little embarrassed, maybe… I haven't shown this much skin since I came out of a womb…'_

They stood in a cramped square room, below the floor of the entertainment room above them. In the center of the floor at their feet, a thick loop boasted the clasps of two silver chains, one chain going to Aelyn's ankle and the other to Sinya's ankle. Aelyn had already tested them; if something went wrong, there was no escaping.

The sound of music above them met their ears at the same time the cranking of gears below them began to rise in intensity. Aelyn kept herself from scratching at the silver-grey paint on her skin, or the glue that held two fake lukku to her scalp… She took a deep breath, centering herself and focusing on the steps so new and fresh in her mind. Grace, she told herself. Just make it look like you know what you're doing, and you'll be fine…

They began to rise.

The ceiling above them parted, and a moment later they had emerged into a circle of spectators, headmost among them a massive green-brown slug of a Hutt enshrouded in silks and exotic fabrics, reclining on a flattened bed of more cushions and fabric. Guards surrounded him, Aelyn observed briefly, and then the music picked up in earnest. Beside her, Sinya began to move to the first part of the dance…

A beat later, and Aelyn slid down into a near split, holding her arms aloft as Sinya moved around her, over her, her hands slipping down Aelyn's sides, then back up again to grip her hands and pull her back to her feet. Their hands and arms intertwined, they moved around each other, balancing and countering one another's movements. The black veils swirled around them, legs all but invisible through the sheer black pants moving with boneless grace as they danced.

They came apart, Sinya taking to slinking her body against an invisible, nonexistent pole while Aelyn came into her own. All eyes turned to her. She closed her own eyes, and focused, sharpening her memory of the brief lesson she'd had but barely an hour ago, and slowly she began to move.

It was a form of meditation all its own, Aelyn thought languidly to herself. She lost touch with the outside world, focusing on keeping her movements graceful and alluring. Just focus inward…let everything else slip away…the embarrassment, the almost-shame of being so nearly naked, the wry amusement –a Jedi, dancing? Even an ex-Jedi… A twisted sort of serenity slipped into her movements, bringing her dancing to a whole new level.

Behind her, Sinya watched, disbelievingly, as her plan crumbled from her grasp. They weren't supposed to look at her like that…with awe and genuine pleasure. The beautiful slave hadn't danced like this when she'd been teaching her earlier… Anger made Sinya's movements harsher than they should have been, and she strove to bring out the natural grace of her species, and when Aelyn's part was over and the focus reverted back to Sinya, she strove to regain what had been stolen from her by the imposter's unexpected talent.

But she failed- somehow, Sinya couldn't bring back all of her grace and confidence. So unnerved was she, that a mere inexperienced human could have such natural poise and alluring beauty of movement over Sinya, a natural and very, very experienced dancer… It showed, and Vabbo noticed.

/Stop/ the Hutt blubbered noisily. At once, the music vanished from the air, and Sinya and Aelyn both halted their movements. Sinya moved to be directly before Vabbo, and fell to her knees, touching her forehead to the ground. Severely disgruntled at the prospect of bowing to the giant slung before her, Aelyn moved to follow suit.

/Stay where you are/ Vabbo pointed at her, unexpectedly. He turned his huge, oily eyes to Sinya, then back to Aelyn. /You/ He cried. /Take off your veil./

Aelyn froze, her hands glued to her side. Vabbo gave a wet snort, and a guard to Aelyn's right moved towards her. She took a step back, thinking fast and coming up with nothing. Before the guard reached her, she sighed deeply and reached up, peeling the headdress –veil, lekku, tiara and all- from her scalp, shaking out her real hair as she did so. Her short red-purple locks brushed her earlobes, and she tossed the headdress aside to cross her arms, as much for modesty's sake as it was for a show of defiance.

Vabbo gave a wave with his short left arm, and the guard continued to move towards Aelyn. Before she could move away, the big alien –she wasn't quite sure what he was- planted a big hand at the base of the back of her neck, forcing her forward until her knees knocked against the edge of the throne-platform. Vabbo peered at her, green liquid discharging from his glazed eyes as he gave a rumble of contemplation. She suppressed a wince at the horrid stench that reached her nostrils.

/Where is Ayy/ Vabbo demanded loudly, gurgling with…indignation? Anger? Amusement? Aelyn never could tell with Hutts…

/Please, my master/ Sinya responded in her native tongue. /This lowly one…/ she raised her head to nod to Aelyn. /She wished a higher place in your lordship's court…Made my sister ill, she did, forced me to let her take my darling Ayy's place…/

Aelyn's head snapped to the side, staring, wide-eyed at Sinya laying prostrate before the slug of a Hutt. Seething, she clenched her fists and fought to reign in her anger. To the surprise of many present, including the two dancers, Vobba began to laugh…and laugh…

/Then she did me a grand favor/ The Hutt lord spewed loudly. He waved to his guards again. /Take her from my sight. Have herself and her sister reassigned. The Twin Suns are no longer my favored dancers…/ Sinya's cry of outrage and shock was drowned out by the approving applause and cheers of the party guests all around. Aelyn, cold dread settling into her belly, looked away from Sinya to the bulbous creature before her. He gave her what passed for a smile, she supposed, as he motioned her closer. Doing her best to hid her revulsion, Aelyn leaned a bit closer, leaning over the edge of the platform-throne so Vobba could plant his spindly, repulsive little hands on her bare shoulders.

/My new favored one/ The lord cried, spittle flying from the tip of his fat tongue. Aelyn dodged a globule of saliva, suppressing a wince. He clapped her on the shoulders, then shoved her away. She regained her balance with as much dignity as possible, going into a crouch in order to do so. /Dance for me/ Vobba's shouted jovially, throwing his miniscule arms up. /Dance, Favorite/

And thus Aelyn's second week of slavery began- such was what she thought, anyways...

* * *

For the thousandth time, Atton scratched at the itchy cloth-of-gold sash around his waist, resisting the desire to wiggle uncomfortably in the far, far too tight silver pants, reminding himself all the while to have the Dockmaster shot. 

Several times.

Oh yes, he'd gotten Atton into Vobba's employ, had definitely gotten him into the compound.

As a trunced-up, bare-chested, tray-bearing party servant! His hair had been slicked back to helmet hardness, his bare chest, stomach, back and arms _oiled_ of all things, and then that damn itchy golden sash…and the way, way too snug pants… Atton stood with similarly clad men (half of them similarly placed by the Dockmaster for Atton's violence-causing convenience), waiting for the signal to disperse both themselves and the treats on the trays they all bore. Apparently Vabbo liked to treat his female guests to some eye candy, too… Atton scowled harshly, and immediately a swift hand delivered a smarting smack to his backside. Stifling a cry and trying not to drop his tray, Atton glowered at the old matron who was in charge of the 'boys.'

"Smile big!" she admonished. "Big, big!"

"I'm smiling, I'm smiling…" Atton ground out, plastering a hugely fake smile to his twitching face. Faintly, he heard a commotion out in the party chamber. The music stopped abruptly, and Vabbo could be heard shouting something about suns and favorites… Then there was an order given, and the music began again. With another smack to his behind, the matron shooed them all out past the gilded curtains that had formerly hidden the party from them.

The next ten minutes of Atton's life was full of exercises in patience and self control. About a dozen or so pinches, goosings, gropings, suggestions, lewd 'compliments' and out and out demands later, Atton's tray was empty, and he at last had an excuse to explore, under the guise of returning to the servant's entrance… He took the long way, angling around the side of Vabbo's platform-esque throne. He got a brief glimpse of a black scarf whirling above people's heads before the crowd in front of him surged, and blocked his view once more.

All at once, Atton drew himself up sharply, sucking in a breath while gritting his teeth and clenching his fists, nearly snapping the edge of the tray in his right hand, down by his side. From behind him, a human woman slinked one arm up over his shoulder and down his chest, sharp nails leaving five slender red lines in their wake. Her other hand was occupied with gripping as big a section of his ass as she possibly could.

"You have a lovely set of buttock muscles, do you know that?" The woman purred, laying her head on his shoulder from behind. Gritting his teeth and cursing whoever had brought his name up to Goto, he remained silent. The woman's nails dug in a bit harder. "This is where you say 'thank you, my lady.'"

"I would, but I don't see a lady," Atton bit out before he could stop himself. Once he realized what he'd said, and noticed the way the woman behind him stiffened noticeably, he closed his eyes and triple cursed Goto…

"I think," the woman hissed slowly. "That your keeper here has been bereft in her duty to keep you in line, slave boy. What say we relieve her of the trouble I know you must be, hm? I know Vobba owes me…shall you be his currency with which to repay me? I think you shall…" Digging her claws into Atton's arms, she pulled him through the crowd, shoving her way through and hauling him to the front of everyone, until directly to their left was Vobba, and directly in front of Vobba –and therefore right in front of him- was his new dancer.

New dancer.

Atton blinked, taking several long moments, while the lady clutching his arm tried to get Vobba's attention, trying to process what his eyes were telling him.

Jedi…exile…

…dancing…

Dancing!

Atton wasn't quite sure what surprised him more; the fact that he was bearing witness to an ex-Jedi dancing for a crowd, chained to the floor, in one of the skimpiest outfits he'd ever see (and he'd seen plenty), or the fact that he was…affected by the sight.

Atton Rand had never, ever been affected by a Jedi, ex or no.

Getting ahold of his libido, Atton grabbed the arm of the woman whom had been formerly holding on to him, hauling her back out of the crowd and shoving her into a secluded corner, draperies and urns on either side blocking any casual glance their way.

"You want to play?" Atton said harshly, quietly. "Fine, I'll play. I'll play as long and as hard as you want, on one condition."

"What makes you think I will agree to any of your conditions?" The woman purred.

"For one, I'm not a slave, and second…" From his waistband he pulled the tiny skiv he'd hidden there, pressing it up against the side of her throat. "Well, I think the second reason is evident on its own right about now."

"You wouldn't dare!" The woman seethed, pouting not-so-prettily.

Atton paused, then flashed a grin, "You're right," he said. "Far too messy… So, would you like to be choked to death, or your neck broken? I'm rather good with necks, you see…"

The woman had paled considerably, even beneath the powdered gold that brushed her skin.

"You…you wish a night…with the new dancer?" The woman's bravado had faded far, far too quickly for Atton's personal preference, but he was in no mood to be picky.

"If that's all right with your ladyship," he grinned his patented devilish grin, the one that made girls and women alike forget that his nose was just a bit too big, his eyebrows just a bit too bushy for truly flawless looks.

"Remain here," the woman tried to regain some of her former imperial presence, straightening even within Atton's grasp. "I will interceded on your behalf for Vobba… I…I will tell him I wish her as a gift, for my brother…yes, yes, that will do… As I've said, Vobba owes me…"

"Oh, I don't think so," Atton said simply, pulling her away from the wall and keeping her ahead of him. "I think I'll stay with you, your ladyship, while you spin your tale." He pushed her out in front of him, seemingly following her like a besotted serving boy. In her ear he whispered, far too low to be anything but sinister, "And let's hope Vobba really, really owes you…"

Again they pushed through the crowd, and again the lady worked at getting Vobba's attention. With new incentive at her back, though, it worked quicker this time. Vobba, visibly displeased at being disturbed from observing his new entertainer, was instantly appeased when he saw who it was who was beseeching him. Quietly, the woman spoke in the harsh, guttural Huttesse Atton never could stomach. Displeasure soon replaced the willing-to-listen expression in the hutt's demeanor, and he roared for the music to stop. The 'dancer' halted her movements, and Atton glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, and for a brief moment almost felt sorry for her. She was visibly strained, though the valiance with which she was holding out was equally visible. And although she hid it well, shame colored her cheeks as well as her exertion did, even as she raised her arms to 'casually' cross them over her barely-covered breasts.

Atton's attention went back to the gurgling conversation between the Hutt and the woman, and for a moment Atton was afraid that this wouldn't work, that he would have to give the signal for the handful of mercenaries disguised as he was to attack, cause a distraction (and probably get themselves killed) so he could grab the Jedi and run, probably getting _them _killed, as well…

But then the argument smoothed out, and Vobba switched a more basic dialect of Huttesse that Atton understood easier.

/Pah/ the hutt cried. /You are shrewd negotiator, Heiress Dei'gata. Fine! Your brother shall have his gift. I shall lend you my new favorite, for one night only! If she is marred in any way, if your brother does not take the proper precautions against incapacitating my favored one, my ill will shall befall you both/ Then he was waving his stubby arms, and guards were moving towards the suddenly wide-eyed 'entertainer' in silver and black. This time, Atton couldn't ignore the twinge of genuine sympathy that roiled in his gut for the woman- she thought she was being led to an someone who would try to force themselves on her… Suppressing a wince at the memories ellicted by the situation, memories which he had played a very prominent role, Atton maneuvered Dei'gata, the woman, away from Vobba once she'd given her 'deepest thanks.'

"Where will they take her?" Atton murmured inquisitively in Dei'gata's ear as they moved through the crowd.

"I will take you there," Dei'gata said, just as softly, the fear in her voice overcome by the barest beginnings of outrage.

"Why, thank you," Atton responded with mock gratitude.

She led him through the crowds, towards the exit, and when they at last left the entertainment level it took Atton a great deal of effort to conceal the sudden lessening of tension in his face and demeanor. Not to get him wrong, Atton loved a good party with good booze and better women, but not when said women thought his butt was the universal pinch-magnet… Of course, he never had any complaints when it was the other way around…

Down a turbolift and a few set of corridors they went, past grand, sweeping windows and exotic plants in antique urns. Eventually, the grandeur faded, not much, but enough to be noticeable. The decorations were fewer and less expensive, the doorways smaller and less grand.

"This is the room Vobba told me she would be brought to," Dei'gata said stiffly when they at last arrived at the last room at the end of a narrow hall. Pulling her dignity around her like a tattered shawl, she swept her skirts around her as she turned, meaning to leave-

Atton's fist connected with the back of her head, and she fell like a sack of stones into his waiting grip. Hefting her up and over one shoulder, Atton pinched _her_ bottom viciously in one last bit of vengeance. Satisfied the scow would have twin crescent marks on her butt cheek despite the layers of skirts, Atton shifted her weight on his shoulder, reaching one hand into the sash and retrieving a small communications device. Ignoring the audio switch, he tapped out his coordinates in the palace. Similar devices in the sashes of his mercenaries would vibrate out the message, and they would all find ways to leave the party and maneuver to just outside this room, either outside the window –if there was one- or outside this very door. That done, Atton shoved open the door to the room and elbowed his way inside, shutting it behind him…

Ignoring the sharp intake of surprised breath behind him, Atton turned, and spied an extra large, ornate wardrobe in the corner nearest the door. Triumphant, he went to it, opened it, and tossed her ladyship inside. That done, he turned, hands on his hips and a roguish grin on his face… The grin slipped, ever so slightly, when he took in the sight of tie tied-up exile laying haphazardly on the massive bed across the room, glowering at him with enough venom in her gaze to melt plasteel. He suppressed a wince despite himself, and crossed the room. Stepping up onto the platform that the bed was on, his grin returned as he smirked down at the burgundy-haired woman, still in the very, very revealing dancer's outfit.

"Well, well, lookie what I found," he smirked at her, evilly. Shifting movements of her jaw betrayed that she was grinding her teeth. "Come on, say it, I know you want to," he goaded.

"Would you please," the ex-Jedi bit out. "Untie me?"

"Hm, since you asked so nicely…" Atton crossed his arms over his –still- oiled chest, tilting his head as he peered down at the 'dancer' laying on her side, ankles tied and hands bound behind her back. "Na, I think I leave you just the way you are," he grinned wolfishly at the snarl that left her lips. "It'll make it easier if I don't have to fight you once we're out of here…" At the surprise on her face he added, "Yes, believe it or not I have come to rescue you."

"Oh, is that what they're calling it nowadays?" Aelyn snarked. "And here I thought you were just releasing me from Vobba's imprisonment so you yourself could resume being my jailer… Thank you oh so much for updating my mental galactic dictionary-"

Then his hand was on her mouth, silencing her. The walls were then revealed to be thinner than Atton had at first thought, as the unmistakable sounds of…well, 'passion' the delicate term normally used, came from the next room over. Lips quirking in amusement, Atton looked back down at his captive exile to find her face had turned a severe shade of pink. Snickering, he removed his hand, opening his mouth to deliver a tease-

A sudden starburst exploded in front of his vision, at the same time a flurry of pain erupted at the side of his head. Having swung her bound legs up off the bed and around to slam him in the side of his head, Aelyn further swung her legs over the side, getting to her feet and…

Atton, recovering, blinked. She was hopping away, towards the door, fast as that ample Jedi butt could hop…

He couldn't help it- really, he couldn't. He fell against the side of the bed, laughing helplessly. Determined as ever, Aelyn kept on hopping away, towards not the door, but the window. Not quite sure what she intended to do –the window was just as locked as the door was- Atton's laughing ceased when, seemingly of it's own accord, a heavy urn began to raise itself from the floor beside the window, and launch itself towards the transparasteel…

And, of course, bounced right off. Transparasteel was stronger than that. But the resounding echo was loud enough to cause even the noises from the next room to pause for a moment, and Atton rolled onto his back onto the bed, then off the other side to land next to Aelyn, whom had abandoned the window to hop towards the door… He took two long strides, and caught her around the waist, hoisting her up into his arms. She kicked, and wiggled, and thrashed, her hands tied behind her back twisting to the side to scratch and claw at his belly. He ignored the minor abrasions, and tossed her onto the bed. Before she could roll off the other side, he snatched the edge of the soft satin cover and threw it over her. Climbing onto the bed, he stood on the soft mattress and stepped over the thrashing exile and jumped down to the other side. He grabbed the other side of the sheet, and tossed that end over her, too. Reaching up to clear the fabric from her face –she was no good to him suffocated- he set to tying the fabric around her in thick, bulky knots.

"If you're trying to glare holes into the back of my head," he said conversationally. "Thought I'd let you know it's not working."

"No shit," she snarled.

"Tsk, tsk," he admonished, tapping her on the nose as he finished the knots, retreating his finger just in time to avoid the sharp 'click' of her jaws snapping over the air where his finger had been mere half a second before. "And here I thought Jedi weren't supposed to curse…"

"Not a Jedi…" the woman snarled, wiggling in a futile manner in her new bonds.

"Really." Atton snorted, glancing to the fall urn. "That poor piece of crockery over there begs to differ."

She only glared at him, and Atton got a decisively evil pleasure out of simply grinning back. A moment later, the communications device in his sash gave a beep of a vibration, and he retrieved it, and clicked it on.

"Rand," he said into it.

"Look out your window." Came the mercenary's casual, almost bored tones. Atton crossed the room to look out the window, and sure enough five men, having changed their server garb for their regular mercenary armor, hovered a few stories below on swamp speeders. He nodded to himself, and spoke an acknowledgement into the device. He suddenly turned when, at the sound of his voice, a child-like gasp escaped from behind him.

Atton turned, and found himself goggling at the blonde-haired, blue eyed girl that stood by the bed, her hands frozen amid a half-done job of untying Aelyn. There was a hidden passageway –no longer hidden, being that it was open- directly behind her. The girl's jaw was still dropped open, and tears of shock and betrayal glistened in her eyes, echoed a moment later by a glower of deepest anger and hurt.

"Atton…" the girl sniffed angrily. "You did this? How could you… How _could_ you?"

And then Atton found his voice, and squeaked, "_Adana?_"

* * *

_**To Be Continued….**_

Yes, yes, I'm evil. I figured, in the KotorII world, if the exile had never shown up, Adana would have ended up getting sold to the Hutts, right? So, what better place for our lovely duo to run into the brash blonde kid? I seriously love Adana, and I kinda wish she'd had a bigger part in the game. For those of you that don't remember her, she's the girl a Light Side character rescues from Saquesh in Nar Shaddaa.

Until next time!

_-Amber Penglass_


	4. Chapter III

**_Orphic Verboten_**

_Amber Penglass_

**Chapter III**

* * *

**Bai Ran** - I myself don't normally care for AU...which is odd, considering my two best stories are AU, heh...

**Mellyna** - I'm gonna have fun with the dark Atton. He's just so sexy! More importantly, he makes an excellent plot enricher.

**Sinjinn** - I love the cloak bit, too. Glad you didn't think it was too emo/dramatic!

**snackfiend101 **- I officially love you. Forget mircosoft, can I just install a button on you, click and have you screen my stuff? And thanks for the beta offer, but I have a tendancy to not utilize their help- I'm just too impatient. A flaw, but one I can live with.

**Amme Moto** - I'm actually still debating if Kreia will make an appearence at all... I'll have to decide by next chapter...bleh...

**Bald as Malak** - What's there to say? You're reviews are as appreciated and as taken to heart as ever.

**LauraCeleste** - Your movie comment was especialy appreciated, seeing as I'm a film student. Thankies beyond words!

**Luren** - I know, I sometimes feel so bad for denying my(self, in a way) the escape she wants so badly. But then again, we want her to have Atton, now don't we?

**And of course, thanks to**; Glass Mermaid, Trillian2410, Sagebeth, Jedi-Falen, Adrianna, JDRVJones, pheonixasending, NightSky 18

* * *

All at once, he thought of everything and he thought of nothing. The 'nothing' part resulted in the serious of blinks and blurbling attempts at speech. The 'everything' consisted of 'what the hell?' and 'we need to get out of here,' as well as, 'hey, the exile is getting free…'

The last thought of 'everything' managed to filter through where the others hadn't, and with a shout of, "Hey, hey, hold it!" He ran, dodged a blur of blonde that he now recognized as Adana, and tackled Aelyn from behind. With a dual 'oof' of expelled air from both of them they landed hard, with Atton twisting instinctively to take the brunt of the blow. Later, when puzzling over such an automatic motion, he'd simply rationalize it away as knowing Goto wouldn't want his 'guest'-to-be damaged. Unfortunately, however, he would also remember what a painfully susceptive position his gentlemanly act had put him in…

As soon as the exiled Jedi realized the position she was in was one of pure advantage, she took that advantage, elbowing her captive-to-be in the gut and rolling off him and jumping back to her feet. He was up just as quick, catching his breath as he leaped to his feet, only to loose that same breath yet again as a small fist buried itself in his gut, and with yet another woosh he stumbled back, staring incredulously at the tiny blonde who'd punched him so solidly.

"Adana?" He said, yet again. Her stormy blue eyes glowered at him, but in a brief moment of childishness she stuck her tongue out at him.

"That," she told him icily, "was for trying to kidnap Aelyn."

At his waist, the communicator vibrated with an almost tangible air of impatience. The mercenaries outside wouldn't wait much longer, he knew. With an internal wince of near-regret, Atton recovered from the blow –which had been more surprising than truly incapacitating- and swung out with one arm…

With a squeal Adana came around and against him, one arm around her throat, his other arm pulling one of her wrists behind her. Out in front, Aelyn paused at the door that she'd finally managed to reach. She whirled, hair-extensions swirling around her shoulders along with the strips of sheer black fabric anchored to her arms by twin silver armbands. The effect was a thoroughly dramatic one, an effect that wasn't lost on Atton even has he shove his appreciation of the sight to the back of his mind and tightened his hold on a squirming Adana.

"Lemme go!" the girl screeched.

"Take your hands off her," Aelyn moved away from the door, her voice darker than Atton remembered hearing it to date- not that they'd ever talked much… But still, the menace with which she stared at him unnerved him. The fact that he wanted to obey _without_ her using any Persuassion…that unnerved him, too. "Let her go," she added a moment later. Atton's lips twitched with forced amusement.

"Let me think about that for a minute…" He paused in mock consideration. "No," he added, and Adana wiggled again. The communicator in his sash vibrated an impatient 'move it or loose it' message, and he glanced out at the window, the window that he'd barely had time to unlock. He looked back to the glowering Aelyn and jerked his head back to said window.

"Open it," he commanded. He saw Aelyn's fists clench, rings on her fingers glittering with the movement. His grip on Adana tightened visibly, and the girl whimpered. Deep in the pit of his stomach, past the adrenaline and the no-nonsense attitude he'd assumed, Atton winced at the sound. He vowed he'd find a way to make it up to his one-time honorary little sister. Someday.

Aelyn moved. Slowly, but she moved, gliding in an almost stalker-ish fashion in a wide arch around him and to the window. He turned with her, keeping her in front of him at all times. Her gaze never left his as she reached the window, and slowly raised her arms and hands to grip the latch of the window and haul the huge sheet of transparasteel glass aside.

"Move away," he told her, and –still glaring a chillingly harsh glare- she moved, her gaze flitting from him to Adana. Moving slowly to the window to take Aelyn's place, he glanced out, briefly, long enough to view the scene below but not enough time for the Exile to try anything. Seeing that the mercenaries were still down below, hovering on a set of illegally tricked-out speeders, he reached out one arm and began displaying a series of hand signals he'd picked up a long time ago… Then, in his mind, he ran over what he hoped would happen… And calculated the risks if it didn't go right…

Then, trusting that the message had been received, he hoisted the blonde Adana up into his arms. Squealing, she fought him, but she was overall too startled by his sudden movements to fight enough to prevent the end result; his tossing her out the window. The loud, girlish scream of absolute terror and betrayal ended abruptly, about the same time a cry of outrage exploded from the mouth of the ex-Jedi across the room. Aelyn charged, Atton dodged, bringing himself back around and behind Aelyn as she stumbled, regained her balance, and she herself whirled around, two fists ready and willing to meet his face.

Atton ducked and came up under her swing, hooking his shoulder, arm, and neck around her torso, just under her bust, like a vice. He put more speed into his movements as he came into contact with her, ignoring the heavy, well-placed blows her small but quite capable fists were landing to his back, ribs, and backside. Keeping his momentum going, he lifted her up as he ran, planting one foot on the window ceil and_ shoving_ with his other foot….

The pounding fists at his back were suddenly clutching fingernail-fulls of flesh and cloth-gold sash as they tumbled in a controlled fall out the window. Atton curled, flipped in mid-air, pulling his Jedi quarry back over his shoulder and into his arms, all in the sparse three-second fall before…

Before, in mid-air, they came to a tooth-jarring halt.

Not quite realizing he'd closed them, Atton opened his eyes to spy with combined amazement and amusement the scrunched-up, very red face of his captive Jedi below his own, her left arm shoved down below her –she was cradled in his arms over the threshold style- with waves of ripples eminating from her palm downwards.

_'Of all the unexpected things…'_ he thought with amazement. She was holding them aloft with sheer Force alone. Both of them. And, he realized suddenly, she was slowly lowering them to the batch of mercenaries not ten feet below them. Her breathing was becoming more labored with every foot they descended, and Atton could hear Adana's worried gasps and whines from below. Three feet from the ground, with a raggedly harsh gasp, Aelyn's grip on them both faltered, and they fell a foot… Then her grasp on her powers collapsed altogether, and they fell the last two feet unhindered. Atton's knees bent to absorb the brunt of the impact, and the moment he was under his own power, again, he bolted to the spare speeder waiting by the leader of the mercenaries, who gave him a curt nod through his visor. Onto his speeder he climbed, settling a trembling-with-exhaustion Aelyn in front of him, her legs to the right of the narrow vehicle. She collapsed against his chest, seemingly unaware of who it was she was practically snuggling with. With an amused grin downwards, Atton gunned the speeder, and they left Vobba's compound with no pursuit and no more complications.

* * *

_"I need to talk to you," Luren's voice, so serious, so beyond her years, chilled the year-older Aelyn when she crossed the room to meet her._

_"What's wrong?" Aelyn asked instantly. Luren's only response was to glance nervously to where Master Kavar was correcting a Padawan's stance._

_"Come with me," Luren whispered, and turned to leave, her gait quick and urgent._

_"Wait!" Aelyn called. Despite the advantage she had on Luren in age, it was the younger girl who had the height advantage. She caught up, gripping her friend's elbow. "What's wrong? C'mon, tell me…"_

_"Not yet," Luren whispered the kind of whisper a child thinks no one else in the world can hear. "C'mon…"_

_"Luren," Aelyn whined, still following the raven-haired girl. "Luren…tell me…tell me, Luren…"_

_"Just wait," Luren countered, her voice tense as she licked small pink lips in a nervous gesture. Aelyn, not the most observant person, didn't see the tell-tale motion and continued to press until Luren fixated her with a stare that was thoroughly, undeniably annoyed._

_"All right, all right," Aelyn muttered, hooking her thumbs sullenly on her belt in a manner she'd seen many of the older Padawans do._

_"You look like a boy when you do that," Luren murmured blatantly. Aelyn's only response was to stick her tongue out at her best friend. Then, glancing around self consciously, she removed her hands from her belt._

_"So, c'mon, Luren, what's going on?"_

_"Hush," Luren chastised, sounding more like a parent than a friend only a year older. She led Aelyn to a narrow corridor, peeking around the corner for a brief moment before going around it, one hand out behind her motioning for Aelyn to follow closely. At the end of the corridor, which dead-ended beneath a high, sealed window, Luren crouched in a deeply shadowed corner. Butterflies of curious excitement fluttered in Aelyn's stomach as she settled in beside her friend, pulling her robe down over her knees and wrapping her arms around her legs. Eyes bright with an inquisitive light, she bit her lip while forcing herself to wait…_

_"I had a dream," Luren whispered softly, so softly that Aelyn had a hard time hearing her._

_"What kind of dream?" She asked, rather loudly in comparison to Luren's soft tones. Luren gave her friend an incredulous look. Blushing, Aelyn gave an apologetic expression and repeated, much quieter, "What dream?"_

_Luren met her friend's gaze solemnly and said, "A dream about you, and a man…"_

Unlike last time, Aelyn awoke with a start. When the dream and the faint pang of missing a dear old friend faded, she was surprised and a little confused to find that she wasn't at all restrained. She glanced around, her expectation of being back in the Ebon Hawk's dormitory fulfilled. The footlocker had been removed, as had everything else that wasn't bolted or wielded in place, including all pillows, blankets, knobs and switches, even the lighting that had previously been installed above each bunk. Her lips twitching in amusement, Aelyn rose from the bed to pad across the cold floor to the hatch.

"He learns quick," she murmured upon discovering that the hatchway was sealed thoroughly shut. "He must have overridden the structural damage security routine…made the computer think there was a gaping hole in this side of the ship…" She shivered, wrapping her arms around her bare shoulders. She went back to the stripped-down bunk and sat on the thin pallet that had replaced the usual thick mattress. Folds of translucent black fabric swirled around her hips as she turned and sat, and she arranged the material to cover as much goose-bumped skin as possible.

But despite the thoroughly bare condition of her surroundings, Aelyn wasn't completely bereft of an arsenal. No, she still had herself… And considering some of her newly re-acquired abilities, that was saying something, for once. Aelyn folded her legs in a way that had become increasingly familiar to her over the recent weeks, closed her eyes, concentrating on centering herself and building on that little flicker of a blue flame deep inside herself.

All the while, as Aelyn nurtured and nudged her Force connection, she tried not to think of what had happened to Adana…

* * *

"Good, good." Goto's voice showed the most emotion Atton could remember hearing in the old man's tones since 'meeting' him, that emotion being one of satisfaction. "I trust you'll keep a better eye on my guest in the near future? Of course you will. 

"You will meet with my servant Visquis upon your return to Nar Shaddaa. I trust you can put off visiting the Red Sector with your new earnings until after business with me is complete…" Was Goto _teasing_ him? The old guy must really be pleased to know that Aelyn Drae was safely back in Atton's grasp…

"Yeah, yeah, no problem," Atton groused. The flickering blue hologram before him gave a twitch of a smile.

"Very good. You will also receive the remainder of your payment from Visquis, after he is satisfied that the Exile is the genuine article and unharmed in any way, in case you need a little extra incentive to go straight to my Quarren."

"I got it, already, no sight-seeing."

"Very good," Goto repeated. And without so much as a goodbye, his voice and visage vanished from the Ebony Hawk security room.

* * *

"You summoned, excellancy?" The sarcasm dripping from those three words was palpable, as was the easy disrespect surrounding the redhead that had uttered them. 

"Ah, Mira, how good of you to heed my call," Goto's voice echoed mechanically from the small, spherical droid hovering in front of the lithe bounty hunter. In her drab, but comfortable apartment, the lights were dim, glancing off the robot's slick surface. Mira sank back into one of her salvaged couches, grinning mirthlessly at the photoreceptors turned towards her.

"Not like I had a choice," Mira drawled, glancing towards the small hole that had been burned through her door, through which the little sphere had forced its entry.

"Oh, you had plenty of choices," Goto's voice intoned casually. "Like that holdout blaster holstered to your right thigh, or the Ishani pistol hidden at your back, or the canon rifle stashed beneath the pillow to your left."

"You know, I'm beginning to think that people who replace their real eyes with mechanical ones have the right idea…" Mira slid the aforementioned canon rifle out from beneath the big, floppy pillow next to her, pulling it partially into her lap and casually slipping her hand around the grip, one finger hooking easily over the trigger.

"Subtle as ever, I see," Goto said dryly.

"Of course," she responded glibly.

"I will be frank with you, huntress. You are no doubt aware that you, as you say in your kind's terms, 'owe me one.'"

"All right, so I do," she sat up straighter, setting her free hand on her knee. "So, you're calling in a favor. What is it?"

"I have a very…special deliver due to arrive within the next few days. My servant Visquis –you know, the one in charge of the Refugee Sector?- is in charge of receiving it. I don't trust him. I want you there to make sure he…behaves himself, and doesn't try to keep my delivery for himself."

"Why me?" Mira leaned back again, slinging one arm over the back of the couch in a deceptively lazy posture. Beneath the calm exterior, every muscle was tense and taught. If she didn't like this job, if she refused… 'Gizka out of Hades' would have a new meaning for her.

"Quite frankly, all my trustworthy operatives are currently otherwise engaged."

"You consider me trustworthy." It wasn't a question, it was a stalwart, dry statement of disbelief.

"No, not at all my dear. What _is_ trustworthy is your greed, and your unfailing fear of failure. You will be paid most handsomely for your services, I assure you."

"Name some numbers, hot shot," Mira demanded loftily, releasing her hold on the canon rifle, but keeping it well in her lap while she clasped both hands behind her head, smirking at the little hovering robot's 'eyes.' Goto complied, and Mira rolled the named numbers over in her head. She'd been offered big numbers before, all right, but nothing quite so considerable for seemingly so simple a job.

"What's the delivery, Goto? I'm not stupid, and you know it. No one, not even you, can afford to throw away that kind of money without due cause."

"This delivery isn't important to just me, Mira," Goto said in almost paternal tone that had her gritting her teeth. "It's important to the entire galaxy."

"Too bad for you that I really don't give a gizka's ass about the galaxy. Now, you gonna give me a real reason?"

"No, and I don't need to. Just be on the lookout for a smuggler's ship with the transponder code T3X-HOQ4-459M, going by the name _'Ebon Hawk._' When you know of it's landing, head to the Exchange headquarters in the Refugee Sector. Visquis will be expecting you. There will be other 'extra hands' present; Visquis will be told that I took it upon myself to send him some extra muscle, should the delivery go wrong. Your mission, Mira, will be to protect that delivery at all costs, even from Visquis. Especially from Visquis."

Mira sighed. "All right, I'll keep an eye out for this ship. If I go, you'll know I went, and I'll expect the money to be in my account by the next day. If I decide I want to repay my debt to you some other time, that'll be fine too."

"Of course, Mira, of course," there it was again, that paternal patronizing….

Before she could decide to blast the annoying little hover droid to shrapnel, the robot turned and left under its own power, Goto's annoyingly patient tones still echoing in Mira's memory.

"Damn him," she muttered, leaning heavily back into her couch. She'd be there, she knew she would, and he knew she would. Even she couldn't afford to turn down those kinds of numbers… With a sigh, she pushed herself up from the couch. She needed a nice long soak in the fresher, then she'd set to getting ahold of some of her contacts at the docks to watch out for that ship…

* * *

Some brains were intended for science. Some were destined for quick reflexes; fighting and the like. Still others were made for art and beauty, while others still were dedicated to finding short-cuts and cleverness. 

Whatever Atton's brain was made for it, it wasn't meant for the kind of deep thought he currently found himself in. With the Exile locked safely away in one dormitory, and Adana thoroughly asleep in the other, Atton was left to battle the silence of the ship and the noisy clammering of his own thoughts. In the end, the noise won out, and Atton turned and faced the multitude of questions and memories that had been plaguing him all during his impatient wait on Nad Haddu.

First among them was, of course, the one that he wanted to avoid thinking about the most. And, given his nature, it was the one that he should be least concerned with. Least. But something about that completely platonic, thoroughly necessary, and completely unwanted kiss in the alley made his insides shiver every time he thought about it, every time he unwittingly recalled the feel of her lips beneath his, every time he could almost feel that soft hair slipping through his fingers, every time his ears played him for a fool and he could nearly hear the way she'd draw a breath that was _almost_ a gasp…

He leaned his head back against the pilot's seat headrest, shutting his eyes tight against the image of his wayward captive Jedi pressed up against that wall. Deep within him, something laughed and laughed and laughed- him, fantasizing –however unwillingly- about a Jedi in a way that didn't involve maiming and death? How…quaint.

But at least that single act had had a purpose- saving their skins from the Dockmaster's thugs. But other things…? The leap in not just his libido when spying the Exile (he really needed to start using her name…) in the dance costume…the leap in his interest. Since when could a Jedi dance? This tidbit about her intrigued him, he had to admit. Part of him wanted to know what else about her wasn't quite standard… His sense told him 'quite a bit.' And Atton's sense was rarely wrong…

Then there was when she'd fallen on him in their tussle in the room in the Hutt's palace, when he'd twisted to take the brunt of the fall, to _protect_ her. Just didn't want to damage Goto's property, he told himself. Knowing his luck, the chit would have hit her head _just_ right and addled a few mental functions, or slipped into a coma…

He sighed, folding his hands behind his head and staring up at the boring, bland grey metal bulkhead above him. Damn, but this ship was ugly… But she was a good ship, even he had to admit. She'd been patched and double patched more times than he could count, and visibly so, but she still ran smooth as butter.

More thoughts were starting to nag him. Like his fascination with her burgundy hair, and his incessant curiosity about whether or not it was natural…

Scowling, Atton abruptly slapped on the autopilot and shoved himself out of the pilot's seat, and headed for the dormitory. He needed to check on Adana…

* * *

"Atton…" Aelyn rolled the name around in her mouth, pondering the sound of it and the feel of it on her tongue. She hadn't realized until going over her memories of her 'rescue/recapture' at the Hutt palace that until Adana had whispered the name, so forlornly, that she'd never before known her captor's name. Atton. 

She liked it, and that surprised her. Not that it mattered. Just because she liked the bastard's name didn't mean she'd hesitate to do anything necessary to escape, not now, not with Adana on the line, too… She'd sensed the little girl's unconscious presence on the ship, and now that she knew for certain that the blonde was alive and near, Aelyn's resilience to escape had increased tenfold, now with the additional determination to get Adana free, too. If she was even a prisoner…there was always a chance that whatever line of work Atton was in, it was limited to herself, and that he'd let Adana go just fine. But just in case not…

That was another thing. The young girl seemed to have known Atton… the utter surprise in her face when Atton had used her as a shield and as a bargaining chip had concreted that assumption. And the utter shock and betrayal in the girl's voice and attitude when Atton had turned from the window to catch her untying Aelyn… Only once before in her life had Aelyn been privy to such deep a display of betrayal, and it was still a memory that haunted her.

But it was also the betrayal itself that confused her- Atton, for all his obvious flaws, struck her as an insanely loyal person, someone who would stick by someone forever, once he'd cast his lot with that person. If such a person had ever existed to date… he also seemed the 'slow to trust' type. Not that Aelyn blamed him. Once upon a time, she'd trusted so, so easily…

She averted her thoughts from that path of contemplation with a swift, _'No longer.'_

She began pacing, puzzling over the confusing anomaly that was Atton. Why in the name of all that was connected to the Force did he fascinate her so? And it far less to do with the fact that he was her first kiss –as pathetic as that sounded at her age- than one might think. Yes, far less… She paused. Could she possible be that silly? Was it possible for her to still be that shallow?

Yes, yes it was, and she knew it. With a groan, Aelyn buried her face in her hands and halted her pacing with a heavy, halting step. A step that echoed oddly, she thought with a prolonged blink.

She withdrew her hands from her face, lifting one foot and stomping solidly. Yes, there it was, a faint echo, an echo that normal ears might not pick up, but Jedi ears? Another matter entirely. Hadn't she concluded once upon a time that this was probably a smuggling ship? Smiling slowly, Aelyn got down on her knees, wincing at the contact of cold metal through the thin fabric of her loose garments. Sensitive fingertips probed floor until she identified a square section that wasn't quite so perfectly aligned with the rest of the floor sheets. Unfortunately, finding the trap door did her no good if she had nothing with which to pry it open… Thanks to Atton removing everything not microscopically held in place, there wasn't anything to use as an even remotely ideal make-shift crow bar…

She crossed her arms with a scowl, rubbing her shoulders to create friction against the cold air. While doing so, the insides of her forearms brushed against the coolness that was the curved silver disks cupping her breasts. She slowly uncrossed her arms, and blinked down at her décolletage. Oh, Force, no…

She sighed. It would work. The metal was plenty strong enough, if she was gauging the strength with which the trap door was nestled in place… Glancing self consciously up to the corners of the room and spying the security camera, Aelyn maneuvered herself so that her back was to it. While she was at it, might as well mask what she was doing entirely… She settled herself down into a position that she hoped would resemble an innocent meditation pose, while discreetly raising her hands to work one of the disks off her right breast, and praying that Atton didn't choose the next hour to waltz in and take a peek of Jedi tit…

* * *

Running a weary hand through his hair, Atton pulled the hatch shut behind him just in time for the metal door to block something heavy from smashing in his skull. The hatch also granted him the favor of blocking the sound of Adana's indignant, surprisingly broad spectrum of insults from reaching his ears once it clicked blissfully shut. 

"Oiy, why is it that all the women in my life have to be born with such hellishly large lungs?" He complained to himself, grumbling under his breath as he made his way to 'fresher. He'd trust autopilot for another twenty minutes, plenty of time to take a decent soak. Nothing luxurious, but then again the 'fresher on this ship wasn't something one wanted to stay in even if one had the time to _try_ to grant oneself some luxury.

But just to be on the safe side, Atton stopped by the cockpit on his way. Turned out to be a good thing he had, else who knew when he would have found that little beeping red light that indicated someone was trying to communicate?

Slipping into the pilot's chair and pulling up scan readouts, Atton's eyes widened abruptly. Cursing at the sight of the sizable Republic command cruiser that had only just now slipped out of hyperspace to the Ebon Hawk's port side, Atton set to tampering with the sensors on the _Hawk_, jigsawing the whole thing into fooling the system into thinking he was the only one on board. The _Hawk'_s mere design should keep any other shi, even a Republic ship, from getting a good reading, so thir next step would be to try to hack _his_ systems to find out how many were aboard. Right now, he'd rather reduce their chances of finding out he had a Jedi –former or no- on board, especially one who was there against her will…

Then he opened a channel and, leaning casually back in his seat, he controlled his annoyance when a smug-looking Republic officer popped up on screen.

"This is Captain Tise Dorl, Republic Fleet. Your vessel as been IDed as a smuggler's vessel; its crew is wanted for questioning over the Peragus II destruction. Our sensors are only picking up one lifesigns. Are you alone?"

"What do you think?" Atton drawled, rolling his eyes for effect. "'Course I'm alone. I know, I know, hard to imagine, good looking guy like me-"

"Power down any weapons and prepare to be boarded," the Captain cut him off, and the communication was severed. Tense and scowling, Atton locked and triple locked then thoroughly sealed all exterior hatches and entryways before he pushed out from his seat. There was a smuggler's compartment in one of the storage garages. If he could get Adana there before the Republics boarded…

Damnit, why this now? And why hadn't he thought of this, why hadn't he had the _Ebon Hawk'_s transponder codes changed? Stupid, stupid! And now it might cost him everything…

Before he was even halfway do the dormitory housing his honorary sibling, he felt the slight shudder running through the ship that signified a docking. Well, at least they'd extended a docking tube instead of a tractor beam…then he'd really have been in deep bantha poodo.

Adana put up no fight. Apparently, she'd heard and felt the docking, and was smart enough to know that at this point in time, it probably wasn't a good thing. Of course, she had no way of knowing that odds of all odds, it was the Republic… and Atton had no intention of enlightening them. He'd get Adana back to her mother just fine, and didn't trust the budding young woman into the hands of roughened military men who probably hadn't seen soft young skin in months. Atton himself was a guy, after all, and had possessed, at one point, probably one of the sickest minds of all time. While he wasn't proud of that mind, he wouldn't trade the insight and foreknowledge having that kind of mind at one point had given him for anything.

Once Adana was stowed safely and silently in the cargo compartment, Atton raced to the other dormitory to check on his Jedi captive, praying that his locking job on the hatches would hold the Republic forces at bay a little longer.

* * *

Triumph lanced through Aelyn as she felt the ship suddenly give a small, but unmistakable little shudder. Barely an hour had passed since she'd managed to pry the trap door into a state that she could open it when she needed to with just her hands, and already here was her chance to use the secret compartment she'd found… 

Ignoring the camera, Aelyn went to the trap door, slipping it out of its grooves and wiggling down into the cramped, dark compartment below. Lowering the trap door into place above her using the loops on the underside, she settled in and took a deep, shuddering breath as she ignored the closeness of the darkness around her… She wasn't claustrophobic, but her situation wasn't helping her to continue to prevent herself from developing such a phobia.

Time flowed slowly by. Aelyn settled herself into a trance that put her entire range of senses into an ultra sensitive state. She could hear every whisper of the ship, feel every vibration, smell every layer of old fuel… Picking through her mental palace of commands and disciplines, she edited out the smell sensory. Sometimes, it was nice being a Jedi…

From above, murmurs and words filtered down to her muffled even with her advanced senses. Frowning faintly, she enhanced those senses just a bit more… And amid the distinct clipclop of several pairs of military boots, she managed to catch most of what sounded like a whispered transmission, "Lieutenant…find noth…if this is a…ler's vessel, he's not…orting anything….moment. Awaiti…further ord…sir."

For a split moment, Aelyn felt nothing, realized nothing, simply blinking into the solid darkness of her hiding place. Then, intuition kicked in, and a wide grin split her face. Right above her were Republic soldiers! A republic that, at the moment, was quite friendly towards any remaining Jedi (even ex, she supposed). For a moment, she contemplated the chance that the ship had been hijacked by impersonators, ones whom had managed to obtain several sets of Republic military issue footwear, and knew the proper protocol for transmissions to a superior. But if those men above her were genuine…?

"A life lived without risks, is a life not lived at all," Aelyn murmured to herself, then with a deep breath she hoisted the trap door panel above her up and to the side, emerging into fresh(er) air. Instantly, the sound of drawn weapons met her ears, and when Aelyn stopped blinking at the brighter lights, she flashed the trio of Republic uniformed men a wry grin.

"Didn't know you boys were going to get to play rescue when you rolled out of your bunk, hm?" She quipped, feeling more lighthearted than she'd been in a while.

"State your name and your business aboard this ship!" The officer in the foreground demanded in a clipped voice.

"Aelyn Drae, prisoner," she responded promptly and dryly. Startled, the three soldiers exchanged glances, and then the one who'd demanded her name offered a wry smile.

"Then, Aelyn Drae, prisoner, glad to meet you. Rest assured the pilot of this vessel will be brought to justice."

"Good to hear it," Aelyn responded, and pulled herself the rest of the way out of the hidden compartment. She'd wonder later why the thought of Atton in trouble made her belly twinge like that…

* * *

"You simply must be joking!" Aelyn exclaimed as a pair of utterly immovable cuffs were magnetically sealed around her wrists, behind her back. Beside her, Atton scowled through the same treatment. A ways away, Adana in the arms of a female officer gave a cry of concern for the woman that had shielded her during their stay in a Hutt's palace. The officer held her back. Aelyn sparred a moment of her indignation to give the girl a reassuring nod, and give the officer carrying her away a thoroughly unmistakable look of warning to treat the girl well, or else. Had she looked to her right, she would have seen Atton giving a look that was similar, but far more practiced at conveying the levels of pain he would deliver if his silent demand was not obeyed. 

"Sorry, ma'am," the officer holding her, guiding her forward now that the cuffs were secure, said with only a mild hint of true apology in his voice. "But we can't simply feed and free everyone caught on a smuggler's ship just because they know the General's real name. Our Commander served with the General. He'll be able to verify if you truly are Aevyn Drow."

"Aevyn Drow?" Atton echoed, giving Aelyn a confused, accusing look. A nagging, alien sense of fear clawed at his belly- had he captured the wrong woman, all this time? Aelyn kept looking resolutely forward, lips pressed into a tight white line, refusing to say anything. The other officer, though, blonde hair tousled and unkept, the one walking just behind Atton, was plenty talkative.

"Don't know much, do you, smuggler? Thought you people are supposed to be well informed!"

"And you, being so definitely not a smuggler, would of course know this quite well," Atton responded snidely. The offended blonde jabbed him in the back, then proceeded to parade his superior knowledge.

"Everyone worth anything nowadays know that the 'legendary,'" he threw a glance in Aelyn's direction. "Aelyn Drae went under an assumed name, Aevyn Drow. Not many knew she was Jedi, and that was the way she wanted it, that's why she took the name. Supposedly, she didn't like the image-beating the Jedi were taking. Whether she took an altered name to defend herself or them, no one's sure."

"To defend myself," Aelyn answered in a grumble. "There, mystery solved."

The blonde officer glowered at her, as if she'd deliberately ruined the end to a good ghost story.

The pair of them, guarded on all sides, were lead to and thrown in a pair of freshly ignited force cages in a small room, somewhere on the portside of the ship, Atton guessed. Sighing, he grimaced at the familiarity of his surroundings.

"Visit these kinds of places a lot?" Aelyn drawled from beside him. Glancing over at her, he saw that her eyes were closed, and she was sitting with her back to the narrow strip of metal adhered to the wall, her knees bent, forearms resting on those knees, hands hanging loosely. Her head was leaned back against the wall, the long, pale expanse of her throat exposed. Briefly wondering why he felt his gaze drawn to that creamy space of flesh, Atton blinked at raised an eyebrow at her, even though she wasn't looking at him.

"What, Republic ships? No, thanks, had my fill early on." He gave a snort –he'd known she'd been jokingly referring to the force cages- and he watched as she lowered here head and opened her eyes to look at him, surveying him anew.

"That's where I recognized some of your moves," she said, half to herself, as if she'd located the missing piece to a hobby puzzle. "They were Echani. Barely, since they were military-learned, but Echani still. You were a Republic soldier, weren't you?"

"Unfortunately," Atton said, tensely, wondering why he wasn't contesting the accusation. Until this moment, he'd argued fervently with anyone else who'd come close to that same conclusion. Before he could contemplate his oddly quick surrender, though, the doors to the holding room slid with open with appropriate silence, and in stepped a mountain of a man, stone-like face and all. He was as statuesque as a chiseled marble statue, and just as flawless. Space-black hair curled just so against a high, square forehead that sat above a set of penetrating coal black eyes. The nose that stretched between and below those eyes was as sculpted as the rest of him, stopping a perfect amount of space above a pair of lips that, on their own, would have seemed more appropriate on a mostly augmented whore than a Republic Commander. A thoroughly masculine chest was encased in a Commander's red vest and silver brocade, obviously his less formal uniform, as he was lacking the full-sized medallions that, currently, a number of buttons sat in place of. He was tall, to top off the insult to Atton's own taller-than-average-but-not-overwhelmingly-so height.

And to add salt to the mixture, Aelyn lit up like a nebula at the sight of him, jumping to her feet so quickly one might of thought she'd never been sitting at all. Similarly, a look of utter surprise stole over the Commander's face when his gaze moved from scrutinizing Atton to behold Aelyn beaming at him.

"General?" The Adonis of a man said in thoroughly shocked tones. Instantly, he snapped his fingers to one of the officers flanking him, and a moment later the golden glow around Aelyn vanished. She took three strides, he took only one, and they met halfway in an embrace that was inexplicably entirely too comfy for Atton's comfort.

Aelyn embraced the Commander with all the strength her still newly recovered body could muster. Oh, to see a friendly –adult!- face! "Karas!" She crowed, pulling back with her hands still quite a ways above her resting on Commander Karas's shoulders. He beamed down at her, and for all intents and purposes his godly handsomeness was purely hers. Far older than he looked, Aelyn's former second in command had never married, never had a serious relationship as far as she knew- though he had once confessed during a bout of comrade-esque drinking, in a tender moment kept among Aelyn's most treasured memories, that if he'd ever could care about someone enough to remain loyal for any length of time, he would have thought and would have liked it to be her.

He kissed her now, a kiss of pure old friendships being taken out and dusted off, a chaste but happy kiss, smiling his blatantly pleasure at seeing her. "Aev, you're a sight for sore eyes," he told her. "If you'll pardon the cliché."

"You're pardoned, of course," she told him, stepping back at long last. "So long as you inform a certain blonde officer that next time he tries to make the event of my adopting a somewhat altered alias into a tool to show others how smart he is, to please try and keep the dramatics to a minimum."

Karas threw his head back, laughing. "Ensign Dagg is enthusiastic, but harmless. I think you'd like him, given half a chance. He reminds me of you, the few times you stopped being the General for a few moments."

"I'm not sure to take that as a disguised compliment," Aelyn said dryly. "Or smack you soundly."

"You can do both, but I'd prefer you do the other in private, and repeatedly," Karas waggled her eyebrows at her in a fashion that Atton, watching peevishly, found thoroughly unbefitting of the no-fuss face those eyebrows sat on. Flirting, Atton decided was at least one thing he thought himself better at.

Then again, Aelyn hadn't given him that grin or that burst of laughter at any of his-

Waitaminute. Atton had never flirted with Aelyn, so of course she'd never smiled that teasingly alluring smile, that friendly sparkle, that contagious laughter…

Growling to himself, Atton leaned further back against the wall, sulking. The sulk vanished, though, when a moment later both Karas and Aelyn turned to leave. "Hey!" He shouted, appalled. "What about me?" Aelyn turned at the doorway, eyebrow raised.

"What about you?" She sniffed, and left.

* * *

"It was a while ago, now," Karas sighed, pouring them both small shots of correllian whiskey. Sitting at the long conference table, Aelyn gave him a look. 

"Tell me anyways. And no feigning bad memory- I worked with you, remember? I know how good your memory is. I relied on it often enough," she snorted, taking her glass from her old friend as the said friend slid into a seat across from her, smiling that devilishly white smile at her. Her heart flipflopped. She used to be able to keep such a nice, tight reign on her attraction to the man- she'd had to, they'd been in the middle of war. And now…? Now she was a loose ex-Jedi, without much of a purpose, without much of anything resembling resources…or friends.

With an internal wince, she downed the shot, shoving the glass away from her and settling deeper into the chair, the most comfortable thing she'd been able to enjoy for quite awhile. That bed she'd been trussed up and tied to on Nal Hudda didn't count, she thought, quickly averting her eyes to the brown-haired rascal still encased in golden energy, half a ship away.

"The Republic intelligence centers received a request from Peragus over a month ago, requesting information on a smuggler's vessel called the _Ebon Hawk_, the ship we found you, the girl, and your ruffian companion on. A week after that, the weekly security update from the station's security officer alerted us to the presence of what some on the station believed to be a Jedi, identity unknown. We didn't put too much stock in it- they were going on the word of a shifty protocol droid, apparently."

Aelyn frowned. "A droid?"

Karas nodded. "Odd, isn't it? You kept your identity for years, just as you said you would. I never heard whisper nor shout of you these past ten years, and believe me, I listened. How in the universe did a droid find out who and what you were, Aev?"

"I have no clue," Aelyn murmured, ears warming at the old nickname, derived from her alias 'Aevyn,' meaning 'silencer,' a darker name for a darker time. "But I intend to make it a priority to find out."

"So will I, thought I doubt I'll be able to spend as much time investigating as you," Karas confessed.

"I heard the Republic isn't doing well," Aelyn broached the subject, but Karas waved it away with a wave of his hand.

"Later," he said. "Right now, we're still on Peragus."

"Of course, Commander," she responded with dry affection. He grinned at her, and her heart thudded again. Shushing it with annoyance, her lips quirked when his reply was a glib one.

"My apologies, _General_," he teased. She snorted.

"Haven't been a General in a decade, Karas, and you know it." She sat up, reaching for her glass and shoving it across the table towards him. Heeding the silent command, the big man stood to refill both their shotglasses. "All right then, back to Peragus. What happened after you figured out I was the one they meant?"

"First off, I didn't know it was you, I only suspected. You were the only Jedi I knew who wandered so close to the Outer Rim. That was part of my reasoning."

"And the rest of the reasoning?"

"Sheer hope," he admitted as he grinned at her again, passing her the glass a second time. She swirled it while smirking at him. He continued, "The next week, the next update told us that the security officer suspected some miners of making plans to smuggle you off the station and collect the bounty off you. A few days later, a supplementary report told us you'd been kidnapped during a false air ventilation alert. Five miners were arrested and are awaiting trial on Citadel Station right now. The man who actually got you off the station is still at large."

_'No, he's not,' _the words leapt to Aelyn's throat. Why wouldn't her tongue and lips let the words out?

"Pity," was all she said.

"Anyways, the station is rubble, now," Karas sighed, and Aelyn got a glimpse of the age a decade of commanding a bite of a crumbling confection of alliances and old governments had added to his features. "And the Republic is in sore need of another fuel supply."

Aelyn's fist clenched around her shotglass, and she made herself down the burning contents, so if she crushed the glass at least she wouldn't get the alcohol everywhere. As it was she managed to force herself to put the glass down calmly, looking to Karas with sympathetic eyes. "I wish I could help," she told him. "But I'm on my own quest at the moment. The man still sitting in one of your force cages was hired by someone, I don't yet know who, to bring me to him, I'm guessing, not kill me. He's had plenty of chances to kill me outright, but instead he's gone to great lengths to keep me alive and in relative good health."

"And you don't think it's for the simple pleasure of having you to himself?" Karas drawled, only half teasing. It was the half that wasn't teasing that surprised Aelyn, and she showed it with her raised eyebrow.

"Aev, you're as naïve as a virgin when it comes to certain kinds of men," Kara sighed. Aelyn flushed rather prettily. "The looks he gave me when we were reunited in front of him could have skewered me."

"I _am _a virgin," she told him hotly, ignoring his other comment in favor of this subject that was rather an old argument between them. "And I quite like it that way."

"I still don't believe it," he snorted. "I didn't believe it when I'd met you fresh from your defiance of the council, and I certainly don't believe it now that you've spent ten years on or beyond the Rim."

"Think what you like, Karas," she retorted primly. With a devilish grin she provoked him, "You're still just sore that I denied you all those years and-"

Annoying, loud, obnoxious klaxons interrupted her building tease, and Karas's mouth –open and ready to deliver a retort- snapped shut, a scowl spreading over his face.

"If that fool new recruit fell asleep on the alarm buttons again-" But as he and Aelyn rose from their seats, a suddenly overwhelming sense of someone important nearby clogging all of Aelyn's other senses, while at the same time the comlink on Karas's wrist beeped urgently. Whatever was said while Aelyn was distracted with the sensation plaguing her, it was enough to tell Karas that this was no mistake, no unauthorized drill.

"I'm sorry, Aev, but I'll have to send you back to the brigg until this is over," his gaze was truly apologetic, but the steel behind his voice and eyes reminded her of how much she'd once admired him. Why, she wondered, did her heart not flipflop this time?

"It's all right, Karas." She flashed him a grin when he summoned in officers to escort her back. "Just make sure no invaders come murder me in my cage, hm? You know I'd come back to haunt you."

"Just so long as it's a corporeal ghost and not one of those ones that can't touch anything, you can come haunt me all you like," he told her, his voice joking, but somewhat distracted as he set to examining the miniscule readouts on his wristcomm. He flashed her a final grin, and left, barking orders left and right. A swell of pride welled up in Aelyn as she watched him go. She'd made him that good, she knew. He'd been but a new, inexperienced –even if highly talented- young Captain when he'd been given to her to command. Now look at him…

But he was part of a world she could never again touch, she knew, and it panged her. It panged her not that she couldn't rejoin it, but that she'd loved it so much in the first place.

If ever anyone needed proof she was no Jedi, one only had to examine the love she now recalled once holding for the thrill of battle, for the pride of command, and for the lust she'd felt for victory…no matter the cost…

Back in her cell, the klaxons continued to annoy the hell out of her. Beside her, Atton slept soundly. How could he possible sleep? In an unexpected motion of compassion, she let him sleep. She suspected he'd had very little of it lately, safeguarding her…imprisoning her…whatever it was he'd done. Frustrated with her own thoughts, Aelyn turned away, both physically and mentally, from the tantalizingly curious specimen beside her. Instead, her thoughts caught on the niggling sensation that had been cloying at her since she'd left Karas's company.

Familiar, yet completely alien. It was a person, of that she was sure. Whoever it was…they smelled of vile betrayal, of old wounds and older loyalties. They reeked of having touched the darker side of the universe, and yet they sang with a level of understanding Aelyn couldn't quite see or understand, and quite frankly wasn't sure she wanted to. The longer Aelyn examined this other presence, the stronger a foreign sort of connection grew. Eventually, Aelyn decided, with reluctance, that it was a bond she did not want to nurse, and she turned her thoughts away from that other person who, at the last moment, turned mental eyes towards her, noticing her…evaluating her, sizing her up, as if measuring her worth, her use…

Aelyn shivered, wrapping her arms around herself in the dim light of the red klaxons, eyes shut tight against some invisible ghost of pain that suddenly caressed her flesh with sandpaper. What was this she felt? Calling upon every ounce of her newly rekindled connection to the Force, Aelyn slammed down on the budding connection with this strange other person, severing it as completely as she could. It was a good cut, clean and nearly thorough, and it was enough to stop the pain from leaking through. Rather shaken, Aelyn opened damp eyes to see, out of her perephreal vision, that she was being watched.

"What's happening?" Atton asked, as serious as she'd ever seen him, deep brown eyes fixated on her face- specifically, on a single tear that had managed to slip past her defenses. She wiped it away, shaking herself out of her dazed reverie to answer him.

"Don't know," she told him. "Something serious, for Karas to have tossed me back in here." She fiddled with the hem of her tunic, an old habit.

He opened his mouth to comment on Karas –she knew that's what he was going to do, she just knew- but instead of the sound of his voice filling the room, the sound of forced door gears sliced through the air and with a protesting screech, and all at once that infant connection Aelyn had tried to sever came back full force, fully healed… The other half of that bond was behind that door, Aelyn knew as she bent double, gasping. The halves of the holding room doors slid open, and in poured the last creatures in the universe Aelyn expected to see.

Not a smidgeon of her shock, though, was comparable to the utterly freezing emotions that lanced through Atton at the sight of the familiar silver and black-robed figures that spilled into the room like darkness, taking up positions all around the room, one of the assassins going instantly to the control panel on the wall. The golden hum of the force cages vanished, and Aelyn and Atton both were on their feet the instant the shields began to go down. Both of them instinctively in battle stances, Aelyn vowed to question Atton later on why his face was so suspicious pale… He was a man to react to threats with violence and wit, not that blank-sheeted horror…

Then again, many a man's normal reactions to danger were altered when confronted with half a dozen Sith Assassins, she admitted, her lips twisted in a sour insult to a smirk.

Then the source of her own fears stepped in, and at once Aelyn knew that the connection that bound her was one that linked her to a demon. A grey-skinned monster of a man who looked like he'd been hacked apart then pieced back together stepped in through the tortured doorway, the hilt of a double-ended red lightsaber in his right hand, a second double-bladed 'saber in his other. One milky eye moved independently, as if it could still see. The other eye, dark and red as the blade he held, no doubt, pierced straight through Aelyn and no other.

Without warning, both lightsabers snap-hissed to life, one red, the other the deepest shade of burgundy-purple. Aelyn suppressed a gasp of uttermost shock at the sight of it, a moment before the inhuman jigsaw puzzle of a man tossed it to her. She caught it, by habit only, and stared at the carrier of the red saber.

"I have come for you, Exile. Prepare yourself."

* * *

**_To Be Continued…_**

Geh, so sorry this took me so long! Hope the plot-chewey content goodness of this chapter helps make up for it.

And I bet you thought it was Kreia coming, didn't ya, didn't ya? Bwahaha. I love my plot bunnies. They're so good to me…

-_Amber_


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